Chrissy Tiegen is about to get her boobs reduced in size. To guys, this demotes her to Mrs. John Legend...

Pantheon Removals

As the year closes, The Other Letter Pantheon must cull the herd. Because of the limited clout I have, the only way I can effect any change at all is by removing from the Pantheon the less than desirable and exemplary. If these women ever clean up their acts, they can resubmit their application for admittance.

Until they get it together, my readership will take a huge hit as these three — Ashley, Gwynnie, and Nikky — are the favorite destinations in all Other Letter. I will soon be swimming in debt, and begging friends and acquaintances for loans, or outright, cash handouts. If Other Letter is crushed with unpaid debts, these are the girls we should feel free to blame.

The following Pantheon women do not meet our modest criteria for inclusion, and have been excised here:

Ashley Judd prays in the direction of Jerusalem for world peace, and for a continued supply of her cherished Milky Way bars as she now weighs over four-hundred-and-fifty pounds. Besides praying for candy, Ashley also prays for grandma roles worthy of her talents. More than anything else in Creation, Ashley desperately needs the soft imaginary touch of her Baby Jesus, and his whispered comfort and conversation.

Ashley has often said that were it not for Baby Jesus, her only other friend would be Mother Nature where she sets up her tent ten to twelve months of every year. This is where she first got hooked up with Milky Way bars, for energy at first, then for companionship. Other hikers can sense her nearby, as the ground quakes. Ashley once needed to be Medivac-ed out of the Smoky Mountains as she rolled on her side like a flipped turtle. The copter could barely lift her off of the ground, as she exceeds passenger-weight specs for Sikorsky horizontal-rotor craft.

60 Minutes did a segment on Ashley entitled, This Woman-Child from Kentucky. In it, a neighbor recounts a typical summer night: “Ashley runs down from the hill country in the buff, and speaking in tongues. So yesirree, Bob, she is a bit strange for these parts...”

Everywhere on Goop, Gwynnie represents herself as a paragon of virtue, and Christian living, never good times, but there does appear to be more to this story.

Replying to a Christmas 2019, question from BFF, Kate Hudson, Gwyneth Paltrow said that she drinks every day, and doesn’t care that she does (mobile devices cannot process offset, so the Youtube should be set at 6:16 to witness Gwynnie’s mea culpa). To anyone familiar with Alcoholics Anonymous, drinking daily is a sure sign of being afflicted with the disease of alcoholism.

As part of her Pantheon Rehabilitation Program, we have sent her the names of several long-term, State facilities, with nominal cost. Gwynnie’s kids will become wards of the State. This way her moppets can keep their standard of living above that of Hondurans. Gwynnie has accepted all this, as she forfeited all rights to circulate among the civilized. In the cruelest twist of fate, Goop operations, now in receivership, will be handed over to her arch-nemesis, Martha Stewart.

In more damning Gwynnie news, she is the new face of Dubai luxury. Ms. Paltrow has done promos for this city in the United Arab Emirates. The only problem being that this city has a terrible human rights record, and she is implicitly endorsing an evil regime. She may have uncovered this fact, and severed ties with everyone who set her up for this; or she did nothing, and intends to do more for Dubai, the UAE, and their “good life.” So far, she’s said nothing about her dunderheaded gaffe, or is it just another hefty, Marvel-size, paycheck? Maybe she is just putting her head in the sand, hoping the controversy will die down, and then endorse San Francisco for the next go round.

Everyone knows how bright Gwynnie is, but does she intend to use this intelligence in a Trumpian way? Will she say that this interchange with Kate Hudson was “perfect,” and provide an elaborate cover up as the Donald would? Or would she follow the progressive lead and admit all wrongdoing, including admissions before a jury of her peers? À la Jimmy Swaggart, will she beg for forgiveness from her family, her friends, and most importantly, her public-at-large? Other Letter will keep you posted on all new, and vital, developments.

I know for a fact that Gwynnie appreciates this intervention, so don’t worry about her putting out a hit on me, especially when I ♥ Radio has done so already (get whom?).

Then there’s Nicole Kidman. My readers are crying: “Is no one sacred in an Other Pantheon world?” No, if you run afoul of our guidelines, there is no place to run, or to hide. Nicole is so fawning, and so clingy over her husband who isn’t affectionate in return.

Will Nikky, fully resistant to treatment, and avoiding Twelve-Step program, be joining Gwynnie in the day room, one without windows, at some anonymous, poorly-run, State facility for those deep in the cups? A place without visitors, and where you’re only identified by number, not name, where corporal punishment methods are still used, and where the meals are thrown on the floor, to be fought over. This is no Siberian Gulag, this is modern day alcoholism treatment for the Southern and Hollywood impoverished.

While Stateside alternatives to AA are approximate to prison camps, down under they resemble POW camps for American soldiers in the 1960s. Because of Nicole’s proximity to Cambodia, she should expect tiger cage lock downs, and dinners of raw gristle. Most Asians of great means are able to opt for the Betty Fu Center in Sydney.

Nikky, however, will have her money tied up in litigation over where the kids will be sent for foster care, so she will be spending months, or even years, in the tiger cage. Nicole may be able to trade Eyes Wide Shut performances for cigarettes and leniency, so the beatings will not be as severe as she will deserve.

I hate to the bearer of bad news, but at the rate Nikky is going, she’ll have a tough time getting work acting in commercials, forget feature-length movies.

Reese Witherspoon continues to fraternize with the enemy, the enemy being Oprah Winfrey and Meryl Streep. More than anything, Oprah wants ratings, and will get them anyway she can. This includes taking down Michael Jackson with those perjuring their own court testimony. Tragically, Witherspoon thinks Streep is the world’s best actress. Sure she is, if exaggerated, arms-flailing, non-organic acting is the criteria.

Reese’s production company promotes women, not men, so how is this not reverse sexism? Reese is noted for her perkiness, but for a Hollywood mogul, do we think she’s hip enough? Hmm, does anyone?

Other Letter readers often corner me at exclusive parties, and ask: “Why was Jennifer Aniston removed from the Pantheon?”

I reply: “Because she was never included. I never understood Jennifer’s star-vehicle, Friends. Did anyone? What is the subtext for this congregation of so-called buddies? Is this meant as some Dionysian joke, a riddle perhaps. Why are they together? Is it only the physical longing of the physically attractive? While there always seemed to be Oedipal or Electra complexes looming beneath the surface, this was hardly explored in the first fourteen seasons. Only in season nineteen, did the troupe come out as either gay and/or lesbian or a non-binary mix.

“While each of the Friends girls were promiscuous, Monica was the one most available for any and all comers. Season twenty-seven opened with her chasing down some guy in a tuxedo for a meal ticket, and Joey running for the United States Senate. Both events were followed by lengthy, house meetings, led by concerned yet perplexed, Rachel and Chandler, with their now famous call-to-arms, “let’s sort this crap out.” Friends had officially jumped the shark.

“The all-time funniest Friends episode was the one where Ross bought a chick for Joey’s birthday, and Joey didn’t realize until too late that he was getting a chicken, and not the girl of his dreams. The hilarity was considerable, if and only if, you had no other exposure to humor. Yet most watched Friends because this was Gilligan’s Island for the 1990s, a mindless romp with updated Gingers and Mary Annes shimmying to native rhythms.

“As for Rachel’s obvious overtures towards the other female cast members, there was never full exposition. Viewers were left wondering, that Rachel-Phoebe axis, why did this never evolve? Rachel, Phoebe, and Monica lived in the same apartment, yet there was never any testing or breaking societal demands for heterosexual relationships? Was Friends filmed in 1995 or 1955?

“Was Friends meant to be a celebration of girlfriends, heterosexual pairing in infinite combinatorics? Then there’s the congregation’s mecca, the Central Perk. Sure Rachel, Phoebe, and Monica, were perky, that is the obvious metaphor, but is that the full culmination of womanhood, to simply be perky? As for sexual congress, all were chaste until Rachel married Winslow, thus ending all romantic tension.

“See, no subtext, no revelatory discoveries. With so much left unresolved, can one actually say they were truly a Friends fan? No, of course not, Friends was a source of endless frustration, for all but those shut-in and watching in institutional day rooms, like felons doing hard time. Was this their intended demographic?”

Anyhow, this is why Jennifer Aniston isn’t included in the Pantheon...

Salma Hayek is Ashley’s bff from their days on the set of Frida. Here’s a few surprises about Salma. Did you know that because Salma is so top-heavy, she has a walker? She might go wheelchair when the going gets tough, but mostly it’s the walker.

Salma cannot stand upright without a back brace. Every movie, if you pay close attention, she’s always reaching for a wall for support. She regularly face plants, even in restaurants. Most scenes she’s sitting to avoid face plant reshoots. Salma has annual back surgery, not just an exam, surgery.

All these girls in the Pantheon get hit on every day, in any situation. I’d imagine it gets very annoying after awhile, although in any boring, social situation, I bet Salma knows to lean over.

Anyhow, Salma is taken, by a guy who could easily buy Fort Knox’ gold, so we very wisely exclude her from the Pantheon.

In Salma’s stead, and in her class of top-heaviness, but somehow even more stacked, we have Christina Hendricks. She looks like the most sweet-hearted woman, she always looks happy. For those keeping score at home, Christina starred in Mad Men as Joan. Joan was beleaguered as the ambitious girl in the secretarial pool, in the male-dominated world of 1960s, Madison Avenue advertising.

Ashley Judd would have been on her way out of the Pantheon due to her associations with bad elements. If you follow this Pantheon you know we mean Pope Jorge (his real name), anti-Choice Melinda Gates, and tax-evader, Bono (his alias). A little birdie told me she is not so foolish anymore, but I still have her on Double Secret Probation to avoid relapses.

Tina Fey was pulled because she backed Jimmy Fallon. This was after the firestorm he created when he snuggled up with Trump on the Tonight Show during his election campaign.

My complaint with Fey of Saturday Night Live infamy, and her ilk as well, is that her SNL stole the writers of: National Lampoon, Second City TV, and Mad TV, then replaced these great shows with often unwatchable drivel (this point about talent theft was made very clearly in the film, National Lampoon: Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead).

To add insult to injury, they had host Trump twice, before he was elected President with fewer votes than his opponent, Hillary Clinton (the election heist was pulled off via the Electoral College’s wealthy people loophole, where land mass means more than the size of the electorate — just like in the Senate).

Tina has begun petitioning for inclusion back in to the Pantheon U.S. Edition, but frankly, we do not see this ever being ruled in her favor. It’s like having a felony on your rap sheet, even if you become Mother Teresa, it stays there forever. Don’t expect me to pardon you, Fey, it ain’t gonna happen. Sorry. Many are called, but few are chosen.

Tina, I know you’re out there, don’t bother resubmitting your application. It is a lengthy, time-consuming, and expensive process. You may think you’re made of money until you find yourself caught in the legal morass that is the Pantheon Review Board. Just be thankful that you did belong to the Pantheon for a few illustrious months, and just leave it at that. This is all we can do. I know you think you’re worthy, but you’re not. I’m sorry, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not good enough. SLAP!!! Wait for effect: SLAP!!!

Lindsay Lohan (Lilo) was given the bum’s rush once she decided she was pro-Trump and pro-Weinstein, not much to add to that. Anyone can see that Lindsay is very warm-hearted, but her politics are suspect, and we have to present the Pantheon to the world as a unified front. Lilo, you’re still young. Take notes on Jane Fonda’s social and political consciousness. You want to be, Jane, just without spending all the time in jail that she does...

Jennifer Lawrence was yanked off of Other Letter when she was rude to Lilo. J-Law said she “pukes like Lilo without the drugs or alcohol.” And J-Law herself pukes because of nervousness, or because of the same reasons she accuses Lilo?

Diane Keaton fell victim to Baby Jesus proselytizers. This is so incredibly sad, but the actress who gave the world Annie Hall in the flesh, has become a mindless Jesus freak. I would give her a pardon, but anyone wearing several crucifixes around their neck, has instantly earned our complete contempt...

Any of those listed above will be considered for re-inclusion in the OL Pantheon once they prove they are worthy of Other Letter forgiveness, either with selfie bedroom photos, or starlet mansion invites. Other Letter is the new power player in town, all hail the king!

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Big Four

Each of the Big Four has super, girly-girl powers, and commensurate experiences. Unfortunately, they are often called upon for unfitting publicity (sadly, because of Heather Graham’s great looks, she seems to often be foisted with this). In a typical Big Four cover, the caption reads: The Power of Women Issue; in the photo beneath: the actresses are spread eagled, and licking a Popsicle...

Charlize Theron is our movie producer; is an Oscar-winner; and represents the international perspective. She is Dutch, speaks Afrikaans, and is a White, African-American, from South Africa. Charli (as she is known by her closest compadres) is three years younger than Gwynnie, five years younger than Heather, and eight years younger than Ashley (we know that women hate revealing their age, but they’re all good sports here).

Gwyneth Paltrow runs contextual commerce site, Goop; is CEO of a multi-national; is an Oscar-winner; and is our culture arbiter. She has hosted functions at her home for the National Democratic Party, including one for former President, Barack Obama.

Ashley Judd has federal government experience; has worked at the United Nations; is an equestrian; was considering a run for Senator from Kentucky (seriously); has a Masters in Public Administration from Harvard University; and is well-versed in spiritual principles.

Heather Graham has movie-directing experience; has acted in films exploring the sexual facet of life, among many other themes; she regularly appears on sexiest, and most beautiful women lists; she has personal familiarity with “the rock n roll scene”; she has worked closely with child advocate, Children International; and has been a practitioner of Transcendental Meditation (aka TM) for decades.

You’re bored, play our quiz...

There was a documentary that followed the lives of schoolchildren entitled Seven Up. If I remember correctly, they discontinued the project at Fifty-six Up — seven installments, and forty-nine years later.

Surprisingly, the original Seven Ups were the Big Four — Charlize Theron, Heather Graham, Ashley Judd, and Gwyneth Paltrow (not in any particular order). Without further ado, here is a quiz matching the Big Four to their quotes from then.

1. I’d like everyone on earth to be very, very, happy, someday.

A. Charlize Theron

2. I’d like to one day become a billionaire, or else marry one, or just have two kids.

B. Ashley Judd

3. I’d like to be able to levitate myself into the clouds. And every child needs to be loved.

C. Gwyneth Paltrow

4. I’d like to rebuild my country.

D. Heather Graham

Do not look at the answers until you’ve given this the old college try. That may not be saying much about college, but so be it.

The answers: 1., B.; 2., C.; 3., D.; 4., A.

Actresses To Be Included

These are a few of the unforgettable, Pantheon women I hope to include once I find the time, the energy, and a full-time research assistant who wears low-cut blouses. This incomplete list has unexpectedly gotten very long, and I have made serious omissions due to blind spots in my admittedly limited knowledge of the entertainment industry.

Julianne Moore would get first dibs, but she keeps turning down my advances, so I’ll profile someone who knows what it takes to succeed in this town:

(Okay, this is the problem I have. None of the Big Four girls want to be Ringo, but they all want to be Paul. This whole Big Four/Beatles project might have to be scuttled. You cannot have four girls being one Beatle, I am sorry. The Big Four needs to be distributed evenly one-to-one to a relevant Beatle. I am in charge here, so I decide which Beatle approximates Big Four behavior, adjusting for gender and looks. If a Big Four girl has issue, they need to write me, and plead their case, beg me really, okay?)

There’s Gwynnie, a huge Paul McCartney fan, that ever-popular and talented Beatle. Gwynnie is very successful, and, like Paul, may be criticized for being too pop-centric, or too up front about, shh, sex (okay, not Paul, this might be more Gwynnie). Gwynnie is a single Mom of two perfect kids (who excel at absolutely everything, they do) trying to make it in a World of status-seekers, and insane pressures.

Then there’s Ashley, John Lennon brought back to life in a gorgeous, feminine package (the Big Three get jealous when I show bias). She sticks to her principles at all costs, and faces huge agitation from idiots who try to stand in her way, all the while making the world safe for defenseless, street urchins from India to Bangalore. In the streets of Calcutta, Ashley is often mistaken for Mother Teresa because of her kindness, but certainly never because of appearance — Ashley looks like a super-model.

Charlize, our George kindred spirit, the quiet, Zen Beatle, into self-actualization, and also into doing good for the world. I keep Tweeting her that she should get a refund from the orphanage because of the spirited, linoleum lizards she adopted (who already have Charlize’s loving heart), but my schemes are to no avail, Charli, the Face, is so true blue towards everyone.

Last, but never least in any sense, there’s Heather, a Doppelganger for wild Ringo (a Doppelganger if Ringo had a large bosom, and a super model’s face), who is always up for a good time — when she’s not saving Gotham. Life is a party, this is Heather and Ringo’s motto. To put this more simply, Heather is the tailgate party Beatle. She is a real sweetheart though, and as a philanthropist assists with Cambodian relief agencies.

The Annual Pantheon Sextravaganza We’ll be having the Annual Pantheon Sextravaganza again this year. Same place, the El Dorado Bar and Motel — it’s the motel by the Hollywood Freeway underpass. One change this year is that instead of party clothes, to reduce the spread of STDs, you’ll get a sterile, paper hospital gown to switch into upon arrival. We have use of the lost and found bin so we’ll use that for your clothes.

Okay, I’ll admit the year prior attendance was lighter than we had hoped... Okay, it was just Kim K and Kenya, and Kenya was asked to leave after he charged the podium. Kim stripped and shimmied in the lobby for tips, which wasn’t entirely unwelcome as she was between pregnancies for once, and the game was on anyway.

Next year we hope to have the Pantheon girls climbing the side of the Trump Building naked to get the word out about our Sextravaganza. If you would like to help with next year’s Sextravaganza with any suggestions, such as truck stops with lodging that are unfrequented by the police, you may send them using this link.

Regarding CopyrightPlease read this link for information how Copyright Law, and the Fair Use Doctrine, permits the use of stills on this page. Considering that their placement here promotes movies and their actresses, I fail to see how anyone could have cause to ask for their removal. Yet if you have legal standing, and you want me to remove your photograph displayed here, just send me a note indicating the photo and the reason for the removal request, and I will do so immediately. Priority service goes to those sending nude photos...

Ship-launcher [shĭp-lahn-cher]

noun

1. Just before schooners set sail for extended voyages to discover new passageways; a fair, captivating, friendly, and charismatic maiden would stand ashore blessing their craft, bidding them farewell, wishing them Godspeed and a safe return transit. Later, desperately home sick for their life on land, sailors would think of her the most, and prayed she awaited them upon their return. In point of fact, she is acknowledged as the reason why they stayed true to a most perilous course. A woman such as this was known as a ship-launcher.

2. Keepsakes reminding one of a ship-launcher.

3. A Pantheon woman.

Why wasn’t I included in the Pantheon? You may be a Hollywood actress wondering why you have not yet been inducted into the Other Letter’s Pantheon page. You’re a likable actress. You’re professional, you’re not a prima donna. You’re noted for your work — both on the sound stage, and for the public good — as well as your intelligence. Your talents sets you apart from the pack, and you never got an acting job by sleeping with anyone, or out of nepotism. If this sounds like you, then you’re in, we welcome you to the Pantheon.

If the Pantheon appointee has signed on to endorsement deals with which the Other Letter Nominating Committee — or in this instance, the Review Board as well — finds exception, we will work with said Pantheon appointee until an agreed upon “middle ground” is reached. This adjudication process must take place regardless of however arbitrary the Pantheon’s negative evaluation may seem to the confused neophyte. Usually this means pulling out of her endorsement contract by the end of the week, but the starlet knows full well that this is a small, small price to pay for inclusion on this acclaimed web page, one reviewed daily by those who matter most in Hollywood.

All we need for you to do now, is to send us your admission request, along with any publicity stills I might use. This will soon be the premier go-to, online resource destination for casting directors, so be sure to make the photos your most becoming ones (we’re sorry, but nudity is not yet displayed here, but it will be accepted with your admission packet as an expedient to the admissions process to help us see who you really are). Please be aware, Pantheon candidates who are unattached in relationships get much faster service than those who are (something to do with Screen Actors Guild, marriage status declarations).

Where do super-models stand vis-à-vis the Pantheon? Super-models take note: this is just a Hollywood Pantheon. Unless you have strong ties to Hollywood, or you have a very accomplished resume with substantial supporting imagery, especially the kind South, far South, of an R rating, you’ll need to plead your position with our Admissions Appeals Board.

The reason the point is raised is because we field dozens of Pantheon requests from super-models each and every day. Take someone like Karlie Kloss. She is a very career- and fitness-minded, dedicated, Victoria Secret, super-model — who wouldn’t want her to be on their team? Ms. Kloss is one degree of separation from Taylor Swift so you would suppose she would be a shoo-in for the Pantheon. The Nominating Committee and myself were mulling over this very issue the better part of yesterday — is she Pantheon-worthy or not?

The answer, you may be interested to learn, is yes and no. Karlie has no movie billing to her name, let alone roles in films appearing in theaters as required for an Oscar by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. If there was a Modeling Pantheon, then of course her inclusion would be a given. Yet because the Pantheon rules were written to accommodate jealous starlets, we would have had to turn down her admission request, had she actually sent one to us, which she apparently forgot to do.

I’m Pantheon, how can I vote another off the Island? If you are a Pantheon woman and you just do not feel a fellow appointee is withholding the traditions of Other Letter’s clean-living, pure-as-the-driven-snow oath — they smoke more dope in a weekend than Bob Marley did after ganja harvest; or they’re given the sun, the moon, and the stars, and they still want anything that’s left — you have the right to vote them off the island, so to speak.

In other words, just get five other Pantheon women who agree with your position to establish a quorum — much like the Supreme Court. Have them forward their position statements to me, giving you the right to supersede my authority, and I will remove the offender immediately. This defines democratic governance, the ability to remove undesirables from your presence.

If you are not Pantheon-worthy, either by gender, resumé, or both, you can still vote an appointee off the island, although the requirements are much more stringent. Just organize 100 of your friends together, and have them send us 100 emails stating the valid reasons why they do not like a particular appointee. She will then need to look elsewhere for someone to tout her career, because purity and appearances are of the utmost importance here, as it is everywhere in life.

Yet as far as you can see, across Other Meadow, along the beach at Other Lake, or high atop Mount Other, no one is smoking. Why? Because Pantheonettes could get emphysema, or any of the cancers, especially breast cancer. Sure, Pantheon-o-Rama, and Pantheon-4-U do not care if their Pantheonettes fall ill and die, but here at an Other Letter Pantheon, we do care. Go smoke your butts over at a lesser Pantheon, get used to smoking in the cold in January and catch the grippe, and try to forget you’re strapped down to an iron lung.

Betty White can do no wrong — ever. She is the ultra rare breed of women who really never makes a faux pas. No missteps, no gaffes, never had a undeserved, mean word for anyone. She’s all sweetness and light — and doesn’t this make her a force of nature? She is one of the very few left, or the only one left, in Hollywood who is universally loved and admired...

Betty White is known for a tremendous list of performances, but the ones that I remember most were those of her turn as Sue Ann Nivens on The Mary Tyler Moore Show. There she played the neighborhood nymphomaniac, a competitive, man-obsessed schemer given a WJM Twin Cities, Minnesota, cooking show.

Her homage to the home front, The Happy Homemaker, featured segments like, “A salute to fruit,” or “What’s all this fuss about famine?” Murray Slaughter, the WJM news editor (played by Gavin MacLeod, Captain Merrill Stubing on the Love Boat), would quip that Sue Ann, and her show, should be renamed ”The Happy Home-wrecker.” Sue Ann would address poor Mary Richards, aka Mary Tyler Moore, with perfect condescension “Dear, sweet, naive Mary ...”

While the writing was absolutely top-notch for both The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and The Golden Girls — the shows where she won the most accolades — the awards she values the most are for her comedic acting in The Mary Tyler Moore Show. In a Movieline Interview, Ms. White said of the foundation value of the scripts, “If it isn’t on the page, we can’t do anything about it.”

According to IMDB Pro, Betty has nominated for twenty-one Primetime Emmys, and has taken home seven of them, six for acting. She has also received four Golden Globe noms. Ms. White has appeared on ninety-nine different television shows. She also earned a Screen Actors Guild Lifetime Achievement Award.

Ms. White is the oldest person to host SNL, and won a Primetime Emmy for doing so. Betty is in the Guinness Book of World Records for being the female with the longest career in television.

Ms. White is a registered Democrat, and an ardent animal rights activist. Betty supports gay rights as well, stating, “If a couple has been together all that time — and there are gay relationships that are more solid than some heterosexual ones — I think it’s fine if they want to get married. I don’t know how people can get so anti-something. Mind your own business, take care of your affairs, and don’t worry about other people so much.”

Her husband, television host and personality Allen Ludden died of stomach cancer in 1981. When asked if she would ever remarry, she has been steadfast, “Once you’ve had the best, who needs the rest?” (In the past, Blythe Danner has expressed — and much more than likely still feels — a similar sentiment after the love of her life, Bruce Paltrow, died.)

Followers of Mary Tyler Moore know that Cloris Leachman’s turn as haughty Phyllis Lindstrom was the only regular on the show with a child in tow, her precocious Bess Lindstrom (excellently played by Lisa Gerritsen, the omnipresent, always working, Seventies child actress). Phyllis was MTM’s landlady and self-described best friend to ever-popular Mary.

Ms. Leachman went on to play the title role in the spin-off series Phyllis for which she won a Golden Globe. Its cancellation after two seasons was partly due to the deaths of three cast members; it became difficult to write scripts when the actors portraying mainstay characters were no more.

Ms. Leachman won the Oscar for Best Actress in a Supporting Role for The Last Picture Show. Cloris is also the biggest Primetime Emmy individual award winner of all time, having won eight statuettes, and nominated over twenty times, for MTM and Malcolm in the Middle, among others. In the latter, she did a turn as Grandma Ida, the Slavic and embittered Canadian (don’t ask me why the part was written as her being Canadian, Slavic, or embittered, because I haven’t a clue).

Cloris appeared in three of Mel Brooks films. She played servant Frau Blücher in 1974’s Young Frankenstein, appeared as the deranged psychiatric nurse in 1977’s High Anxiety, then she did a turn as Madame Defarge in History of the World: Part I from 1981.

Ms. Leachman competed in the Miss America pageant as Miss Chicago, and at Northwestern University she was a classmate of character actor Paul Lynde. After winning a pageant scholarship, she went to the Actor’s Studio in Manhattan to work with Elia Kazan. She has appeared on Broadway in As you like It with Katharine Hepburn.

Cloris was good friends with Judy Garland and Marlon Brando. She is the oldest person ever to appear on Dancing with the Stars.

Carol Burnett won yet another award, this time at the Golden Globes. She made a few, very interesting remarks about how The Carol Burnett Show could never be created today. For one, it was too expensive to produce, so it would be too dangerous financially to be green-lighted in the present day.

What I need to know is how she ever became so charming, geez, is that woman attractive. Carol, how do you get to be so well-liked? Bottle this, and you will be the richest woman on Earth...

We caught up with Carol Burnett at the Other Letter Comedy Festival, and asked the television legend what she thought of up-and-comers like Amy Schumer. To quote Carol: “I just love what Amy is doing with potty-humor. I mean I love hearing about gas, and of course, women’s periods are pure comic gold. She did such a wonderful job in, what, ‘Stand up and Fart!’ She’s leading the way for the next generation, in her profession, with women in general, and especially all those teens who might look up to her. I’m just in love with her and her work.

“In fact, I was just discussing this with Betty, Betty White, the other day. She said, ‘More than anything we need jokes about drunkenness and drug use. I’ve spent my whole life, all 95 years, waiting for comedians who found the joy in making fun of drunks. Potty humor, too, I love that just as much as the next Hollywood veteran — if not more. And four-letter words, I just can’t get enough of them. Give it to me, Amy.’”

There is a rather pronounced difference between comedy of the Sixties, and that of the late Seventies and beyond. In the former, the comedy is classy, and directed towards people or situations. In the latter, it is directed at people — it is much more pointed, coarse, more edgy, and some might even say, rude. I would say that like music of the same era, the new, hard-edge is a product of the American War in Viet Nam. That televised, steamy jungle bloodbath, was brought to us courtesy a tragically misled Johnson Administration, and an entirely untrustworthy Nixon White House. It blackened and soured America’s character, a sullying from which we have never recovered. Fortunately for us, The Carol Burnett Show just got in under the wire...

I always needed a context and a forum to say what I just said about culture and Viet Nam, and unfortunately for Ms. Burnett, I just got one. The Carol Burnett Show sketches I remember most were: Miss Wiggins, the secretary with her own entirely, separate agenda from her boss, Mister Tudball; Norma Desmond, silent screen star; Tim Conway answering a fire call in imperceptibly-slow motion; and the Char Woman mopping up when it was all said and done. The theme song for her show — originally, and not so aptly, entitled Here’s Agnes — is actually touching: “Aren’t we glad we had this time together, just to have a laugh, or sing a song. Seems we just get started and before you know it, comes the time we have to say, so long...” I remember every word forty years later.

The reason she ended every show by tugging on her ear was to indicate to her grandmother that all was well, grandma didn’t have to worry about her. Both of her parents were dealing with their alcoholism, and rather icily, her mother even discouraged her ambitions to become an actress, simply on the basis of her not a super-model looks.

Then there was her Tarzan bit, which I doubt she could pull off if she looked like Marilyn Monroe. Carol also had more than just a few parody sketches during her eleven year run at CBS, including: Went with the Wind, a play on Gone with the Wind, and As the Stomach Turns, a take on the soap opera, As the World Turns.

How can anyone not love Jane Fonda, a woman who’s eighty-one years of age, and who was arrested for protesting an American government that is at the behest of Big Oil, that refuses to seperate oil and State, and that makes clean energy a low priority.

Ms. Fonda is an American hero, she isn’t afraid to fight for all she believes. Is there anyone that stands up for her principles, has her strength of character, and of her convictions that Jane does? She doesn’t just make octogenarians proud, she makes anyone with a conscience proud. Keep fighting the good fight, way to be, Ms. Fonda...

When Jane Fonda was standing beside a Viet Cong anti-aircraft gun in July of 1972, her intent was to shorten a war that was already eight years long, whose carnage was on the nightly news daily, and whose bloodshed had no end in sight. Looking at that picture, and seeing her smile with her hands clasped in what is apparently prayers for mercy from American aggression, she made her point (unfortunately, I lack the Copyright to display the image).

With Nixon certain of a landslide re-election, the prevailing ethos, if you would like to call it that, was to carpet bomb and napalm the yellow-skinned ox-mushers until the end of time. Isn’t that the Spirit of America, to squash Viet Nam’s self-determination by a nation founded on it?

Ms. Fonda was attempting to make a statement against imperialism — and trolls are still forcing her to reiterate it unto this day, more than forty years later. How else to demonstrate that they’re not the mortal enemy, when they’re just like us. Given the American-initiated carnage, I am just surprised that she herself did not open fire on U.S. planes. Ms. Fonda was a major participant in the anti-War movement who, with her formidable courage, did all she could to turn the tide against the bloody slaughter.

Ms. Fonda just won the American Film Institute’s Lifetime Achievement Award. All those who spoke there touched on her uncanny acting talent, her activism in a wide variety of causes and her philanthropy, being a fitness guru, her tremendous breadth of life experience, her stellar degree of accomplishment, her unparalleled courage, and her stellar depth of character.

By the way, she has won two Academy Awards: for Klute, and Coming Home, as well as five nominations for On Golden Pond and The China Syndrome among others.

The problem one can see with Meryl Streep, and her overacting, is that she doesn’t emote, or feel for her character, she much more relies on thought processes than she does emotional ones.

Her arms flail nearly spasmodically, yet she remains far removed from genuine authentic human expression. You could blame the director, except she does this in almost every film of hers.

This is the problem I have with The World’s Greatest Actress — she overacts. Her gesticulations, while maintaining interest, do not occupy a portion of the human register for genuine, authentic expression.

She is a modern and mechanical actress, a Method one, who’s less in tune with the natural emotion of the script, than she is with playing it up big, and over the top, for the Hollywood cameras.

This is fine in the American acting school, but it does not hold up well against the European, and especially French, standard. The French are fluid and understated; Stateside, their leader is hyperactive, unusually demonstrative (as if she were a silent film actress), and wooden and stiff emotionally.

Have a look at a few prime examples, like the Julia Child biography, Julia, Julie, made in 2009. Her director or drama coach may offer some type of an explanation, but still, finding other examples didn’t take very long at all. This was not send up comedy either, where the actors are expected to ham up their performance...

I only offer this so Ms. Streep can become a Hollywood screen legend like Greta Garbo. Greta embodied authenticity, the genuine, and staying true to human nature. Can Meryl surpass or even approach Greta Garbo’s performance in Camille? None other than Bette Davis was gob smacked by Greta’s talents, and “her mastery over the machine [and acting entirely naturally while acting in a role]...”

Meryl Streep has been nominated for more Academy Award and Golden Globes than any other actor ever has, 18 and 28, respectively. When she doesn’t win the Oscar she’s been nominated for, is it only because it is time for someone else to win?

Every Oscar-win and nomination that went to Streep could have went to someone who didn’t overact, but the Academy was blind to Streep’s artificial portrayals. For instance, how many times was Blythe Danner overlooked in her career in favor of Streep’s wildly swinging arms?

Used without permission, and I haven’t a clue as to how to get it. I’m promoting your work, so leave me alone. Sorry, Blythe, just talking business with Eric here.

Blythe Danner recently described Chadley, her daughter’s (aka Gwyneth Paltrow’s) fiancé, as being someone she adores and is well-grounded. Couldn’t a friend of her son Moses — the one the whole family is tiring of, because he only shows up conniving for ice cream treats — be described with the same set of adjectives? Okay, I’m jealous, but why wouldn’t Gwynnie and Blythe want to add a blogger to the Paltrow-Danner clan? What does Chadley have that I don’t?

I have six-pack abs, I can bench over 400 pounds, and my sexual stamina is the stuff of legend. I have been a member of Mensa, the one for geniuses, since the second grade, and I regularly prepare Cordon Bleu meals that rival 3-Star Michelin restaurants in Paris. What is not to like, Ms. Danner? Same question for you, Gwynnie: What is not to like?

Don’t fall for some weakling who couldn’t take Gwynnie to new heights. While those two are thinking this over, I’ll do 20 sets of 50 rep curls of 150 pounds each bicep. Robert Downey Junior shouldn’t be doing Ironman, that part was written for me...

Blythe Danner is known everywhere for her stage, silver screen, and TV work. She won a Tony for her portrayal of a devil-may-care divorcée in Butterflies Are Free, and was nominated for two other Tonys, one for A Streetcar Named Desire, and later for Betrayal. Ms. Danner has been nominated for five Primetime Emmys, taking home the statuette for Huff. She was also nominated for a Golden Globe for her work in Back When We Were Grownups.

Ms. Danner has starred on Broadway in The Country House, an homage to stage actors, as they might appear to be a vanishing breed. While the New York Times review of the play was essentially positive, they could not say any kinder words for Blythe than they already did — the review they gave her was absolutely glowing.

Congratulations on another great performance by Ms. Danner in the Sundance Film Festival sensation, I’ll See You in My Dreams. Believe it or not, in Blythe’s fifty years of performing artistry, this is her first leading role on the silver screen, and it had gotten buzz as a possible 2016, Oscar contender. This woman is so endearing, any praise she gets she deflects, she is that modest.

The roles for which many cinema-goers might know her best though, are as a mom in Meet the Parents, and its spin-offs, Meet the Fockers and Little Fockers. She also did a truly wonderful turn in Brighton Beach Memoirs, playing Neil Simon’s always-insightful mother in another of the playright’s classics. For five years, Blythe frequently appeared as Marilyn Truman, the WASP-y mother of Will Truman on the unusually progressive Will and Grace. Ms. Danner regularly gets cast for wholesome, and far less than wholesome, maternal figures, ones who possess an understated charm. Ms. Danner has a classy, socially gracious, feminine manner that is so enjoyable to watch.

Blythe is Mom to Gwyneth Paltrow, and they have appeared together in 2003’s Sylvia, the story of Sylvia Plath. Here, Ms. Danner played the mother of Gwynnie’s title role. In 1992, they were also together in Cruel Doubt, a TV movie.

Ms. Danner has performed in the Williamstown Summer Theater Festival for 25 years, serving on its Board of Directors as well. Ms. Danner is very active in a number of causes including those concerned with the environment and oral cancer — the disease that took the life of her husband, Bruce Paltrow, in 2002.

Ann Margaret will be the first to tell you that Elvis represented an innocence lost forever. In interviews, she cannot stomach jabs at Elvis, her ex, as he has been the victim of mean-spirited derision for years and years. Ann Margaret has walked out on any interview where they tried to compromise her memory of him.

For ten years until his death, Elvis Presley sent her a guitar-shaped flower arrangement to every stage show she opened in Vegas...

Ann-Margaret was born Ann-Margaret Olsson in Sweden (a strawberry blond knockout, who would have guessed?) She is a triple threat in entertainment. She can sing with authority, dance like it was her only talent, and she can act like nobody’s business. Bye, bye, Birdie is a classic of hers. She falls hard for rock star Conway Birdie, then realizes he’s very superficial.

She was twice nominated for an Academy Award, for Carnal Knowledge as the open-hearted giver opposite an icy and abusive Jack Nicholson. Ann-Margaret was later nominated again for Tommy as Tommy’s mother, Nora Walker Hobbs, a role where, covered in food, she got really, really messy.

For much of her early career she was labeled a sex kitten, so she chose many dramatic roles to showcase her acting talents, and to prove to critics that she was much more than an exceptionally great-looking woman. She’s been in seriously good company. She sang “Baby, Won’t You Please Come Home” at President John F. Kennedy’s private birthday party at the Waldorf-Astoria, one year after Marilyn Monroe’s famous rendition of ”Happy Birthday.”

In 2000, she broke three ribs riding her motorcycle in rural Minnesota. Honest to god. She’s that hardcore.

Can anyone ever forget Susan Abigail Sarandon as the haughty, yet so overwhelmingly sexy, virginal Janet Weiss in The Rocky Horror Picture Show? Her hot as blazes breakthrough performance in that 1975 cult classic firmed up her reputation as a seductively feminine, delicious force of nature. Susan abetted this reputation with a turn in The Hunger, where she most scandalously (for the time, at least) had a sapphic encounter with French siren Catherine Deneuve.

Yet these were only a small portion of her work in the cinema as Ms. Sarandon has been billed as an actress in 127 films (at last count). Susan has earned Academy Award nominations for leading roles in five of these, the one foremost in many minds being the girls-on-the-lam buddy movie, Thelma & Louise. Yet Dead Man Walking — the true story of a nun, played by Ms. Sarandon, who befriends a death row inmate in Louisiana — is the one role that brought home the Oscar for her.

Susan is deeply involved in progressive causes such as ending poverty and hunger, stopping LGBT discrimination, taking down racists, and galvanizing anti-war support. In her pacifism efforts, she has teamed alongside Jane Fonda. She is also a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador, and Food and Agricultural Organization of the United Nations, Goodwill Ambassador.

(Still of Diane Lane in Fierce People
Diane is having a nice life, but not exactly a charmed one.)

Diane’s career has been taking off of late, which is great news considering that most actresses past fifty are ready for the old age home. She has been in features each of the last seven years, and she currently has another two films, and one TV pilot, in pre-production. That woman is doing something very right, and she’s so nice and sexy about everything while she is. Sigh...

If every woman looked like Diane Lane, was as kind as Diane Lane, and aged like Diane Lane, you know what this would mean? That’s right, an overpopulation crisis like this world has never ever seen. Let us all give thanks that Diane is the only one as beautiful as she is...

Thankfully, Diane hasn’t gone the way of Jenny C with boob reduction work. Just like we preserve our national parks, we really need to preserve starlets’ natural resources, and that is their cleavage. We’re pretty sure Diane chose aesthetics over hoisting and holstering manageability. Bravo, Diane, bravo. We’ll see her at the movies.

Next up, is Charli getting all these great roles recently because her chest isn’t threatening to both men and women? And is Diane being overlooked because her over-sized knockers frighten many, if not most, women?

Because these actresses don’t do Triple-X, or even NC-17 rated fare, we never see what’s under the hood so to speak, we never see them topless. It’s foolish to make them smaller to make them look better, we never see the goodies unsheathed, we only see the outlines of them. So even if they are sagging navel-grazers, with proper boulder-holders, we, the interested movie-goers, are never the wiser...

Diane Lane reminds me of both Maggie Gyllenhaal and Jennifer Connelly. Ms. Lane has the looks, the smarts, and the talent, but she has not been given the roles worthy of them. She has been in 36 films, of these, I knew of only Under the Tuscan Sun and The Perfect Storm. Hollywood is very capricious and fickle especially when you’re less the latest trend, her acting prospects are more proof of this.

Notwithstanding, she was nominated for an Oscar for her work in Unfaithful, a drama about Connie Sumner, a fundraiser who enters an extra-marital affair, after a chance encounter with a man on the street (this is about as hot as it gets in legitimate cinema). She has also earned three Golden Globe nominations.

In Hillary, Diane was to play the title role in NBC’s scheduled bio pic about Hillary Rodham Clinton, but the production was cancelled due to the potential for Republican demands for equal broadcast time. She is living proof that more mature women can still look great, I mean really, really great — Blythe Danner being another sterling example.

Along with Tony Shalhoub, known for his long-running television show, Monk, Ms. Lane starred in the Lincoln Center’s Mitzi E. Newhouse Theater production of The Mystery of Love and Sex. This is the story of a pair of childhood friends whose relationship turns romantic over their parents’ objections. Once it does, long-held secrets of both families are revealed, throwing everyone into a tumult. Unfortunately, this was a 2015 limited engagement, hopefully she will be doing more theater work soon. Before Love and Sex, Diane last appeared on the New York stage at the age of 12 in 1977 in the Shakespeare Festival’s Agamemnon.

Diane was just at an Oceana something or other, some celebration of what, water? But she looked great as she always does. She is a breathtaking woman. Honestly, she’s fifty-plus, she could pass for under forty... 2016’s SAG Awards, again, sigh.

The New York Times has called Meg Ryan, “the soul of romantic comedy.” She played Sally Albright in Nora Ephron’s When Harry Met Sally ... with Billy Crystal. Then she portrayed Annie Reed, a reporter finally finding true love opposite Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle.

Another major starring role was that of Kathleen Kelly in You’ve Got Mail. In this rom-com, emailing lovers do not realize the object of their affection, outside cyberspace, is someone they do not like. Meg was nominated for the Golden Globe for all three of these performances.

Most recently, Meg will produce and star in a new comedy on NBC about a former big-time, big-league, New York editor. Meg’s character returns to her previous publishing house employ where her young, neurotic boss was her former intern. Meanwhile, she has to keep her teenage kids, her husband, and her mother-in-law all happy, but when she tries her best, it inevitably makes matters much worse. Ricky!

Ms. Ryan supports environmental causes, and with them, supports the party that has the better record in that area.

Marisa was recently at the White House honoring the Friends of the White House, or some such party-til-dawn extravaganza, probably trying to scrounge up enough cash to build another wing. They have an East and a West Wing, maybe they need a wing for recreation, say to have skeet shooting off the balcony. You never know down there in Washington. She might have asked me to go with her as her date, but I’m pretty sure I had other plans that week, so thanks, but no thanks. Bet she looked a tad foolish trying to hold her own in foreign policy cocktail talk without me by her side. Oh well, what can you do? There’s only so much one man can accomplish by himself...

Watch Marisa Tomei’s interview on the CBC from 2012 with George Stroumboulopoulos, and you can easily see that she has a gift in relating to people. Marisa is not a scripted talking head or a rehearsed sound bite, she has plenty to offer on an usually wide variety of topics.

I am not even sure how physically good-looking Marisa is, but she has to be one of the most sexy women on the planet. Her sex appeal is just off the charts.

Facets of her appeal are based on experiential, social, and cultural sophistication, whereas many starlets’ attractiveness is only based on the fact that they are the end products of the handiwork of a scalpel-wielding plastic surgeon. This Tuscan charmer impresses with every turn — yet she is not the least bit jaded. Marisa unwittingly, yet instinctively, draws you into her heart, and into her soul.

A recent survey of the literature, or the paparazzi porn, as it is more affectionately known, shows Ms. Tomei looking not much different — or not any different at all — from the way she looked when she first won over our hearts twenty-three years ago, in My Cousin Vinny. Follow the link prior, and you get to cry at the misfortune of not being her boyfriend (I wouldn’t say “the misfortune of never being her boyfriend,” because winning Lotto is also within the realm of human possibility, and her complete inaccessibility is otherwise too depressing to contemplate).

On March 13th of 2014, Ms. Tomei began a week of previews for her sixth Broadway stage play, The Realistic Joneses (she has had leading roles in three of them). This is the comedy about two couples with the same last name and identical homes, who must choose between a perfect fantasy, or a hard reality, a choice that will have deep reverberations throughout the rest of their days. The playwright, Will Eno, was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in Drama, so between the acting and writing talent, this has to be one top-notch production.

...Ms. Tomei remains extremely busy, as she will be performing the recurring role of Mimi Whiteman in Fox’s Empire. Ms. Whiteman is a billionaire who desires beautiful young women, and she makes sure that she gets all she desires. Marisa will also be Aunt May, Peter Parker’s surrogate mom, in the next installment of the Spiderman franchise. Then Ms. Tomei will portray Gloria Steinem in the soon to be produced biopic about the feminist leader’s life.

Marisa has been nominated for three Academy Awards, and won Best Actress for her work in My Cousin Vinny. Marisa radiates a natural, effortless gracefulness, but I bet this very stylish, Oscar-winner only dates philanthropists.

Part of Sandra Bullock’s popularity lies in her disarming candor and sincerity. She is a great comic actress, as seen in Two Weeks Notice. Yet in The Blind Side, her versatility and range is evinced. In this non-fictional portrayal of Leigh Anne Tuohy — an adoptive mother of an abandoned youth who later became a Baltimore Ravens offensive lineman — Ms. Bullock plays a take charge, no time for nonsense, very confident Tennesseean. For her work in this, Ms. Bullock won a Golden Globe, a Screen Actors’ Guild award, and an Oscar.

Most recently, Saundra was again Oscar-nominated for her leading role in Gravity. In this gripping, sci-fi spectacular, Sandy plays an astronaut cut from her mother ship tether, and left adrift in the vacuum of outer space.

Sandra’s work bringing Ryan Stone to life made $716 million internationally for Gravity, and also put her atop Forbes 2014 list of the highest-earning actresses with $51 million. Using a common metric, you are doing just fine if you earn the equivalent of your age times one thousand. Ms. Bullock, recently celebrating her fiftieth birthday, earns her age times one million.

The same year, in the sleeper, The Heat, Sandy was Ashburn, a by-the-book New York City, FBI Special Agent teamed with Mullins, her foil, a streetwise Boston cop played by Melissa McCarthy.

Sandra gave a million dollars apiece to relief organizations: after the tsunami in Asia, to the Red Cross after 9/11, and to Doctors Without Borders, after the 2010 Haiti earthquake. By every indication, Sandy is the easy-going and down-to-earth type, it’s easy to become friends with her.

Mystic Pizza rightly made Julia Roberts the star she was born to be. Her buoyant portrayal of Daisy Arujo is truly remarkable. Not only is her Daisy having a time she will never forget, one senses Ms. Roberts is as well. This set the stage, as it were, for later leading lady roles like Pretty Woman.

Julia possesses great strength of character, and has an exceptionally interesting and well-rounded personality. She is not just another pretty, silly girl prancing across the sound stage in stiletto heels.

Ms. Roberts was nominated for four Oscars, and brought the statuette home for her work in Erin Brockovich, the true story about a legal assistant who almost single-handedly takes on a multi-billion dollar water supply polluter. If you want to see a completely convincing acting performance, see Julia as Erin.

Her movies have grossed $2.6 billion, putting her 17th on the all-time money list for actors, and in second place for actresses, behind Cameron Diaz. She has been on People’s annual list of the “50 Most Beautiful People in the World” eleven times, tying her with Halle Barry.

Today, Halle posted a photo of her with a butterfuly on her hand. A troll found the joy in diminishing the otherwise happy moment by saying that her “hand looks like a construction worker’s.”

Then does the full body of this full-figured beauty look like a construction worker’s as well? Halle handled all of this graciously, and in stride, even though social media is run over, and run by, homo trolls...

Halle Berry, née Maria Halle Berry, is the first actress with an African-American lineage to win an Academy Award for a performance in a leading role. She won this for Monster’s Ball, the story of a prison guard who falls in love with the wife of the prisoner he just executed. Halle has been involved in producing five of the films in which she has starred.

She also won a Golden Globe for playing the title role in Introducing Dorothy Dandridge, the true and poignant portrayal of an actress very cruelly victimized by racism, yet still nominated in 1954 for an Academy Award. Ms. Berry has also been nominated for three other Golden Globes. Besides all this, she has squared off against Sharon Stone in Catwoman.

Halle regularly sweeps the awards for people of color including the Black Entertainment Television (BET), and NAACP Image Awards, and she was nominated seven times for MTV Movie Awards.

Ms. Berry has strongly voiced her support of women’s issues, and just as vociferously her objection to paparazzi terrorizing her kids. Halle has been on the lists of the most beautiful, sexiest, and hottest women on Earth, by People (making the Top Ten seven times), Esquire, FHM, Empire, and Men’s Health.

If Hollywood, competition-level girls can be divided into two discreet sets, upper or lower, Ms. Parker scores very high marks for lower, higher than she does for upper. (If Sarah is out there, I hope she’ll forgive me for not being a complete gentleman.)

(Photographer not known. If you know who took this photo, please let me know so I can give attribution; or remove, if necessary.)

When I was just a fledgling screenwriter, before the seven picture deals, Sarah and I had several conversations on Instagram. You might say that you chat up every celebrity you’d like to chat up.

Yet the reality is, and please excuse the conceit, but not many have any dialogues with the rich and famous, like I did with Sarah. True, she has a great marriage, and I honor her vows. Yet if you want to know there’s someone at the end of the Hollywood tunnel, and Sarah is waiting there, how can this not buoy your spirits.

The star of Sarah Jessica Parker (or SJP as she is sometimes known) took off with television, Sex and the City, and her iconic role of Carrie Bradshaw. Carrie was a girl who knew what she wanted, and how she could get it. Mostly, this meant wedding “Big,” and wearing an endless parade of high fashion.

She has been in several movies, one by famed playwright, David Mamet, called State and Main. Another major movie was The Family Stone, which had a stellar cast besides SJP.

These days, Sarah is treading the boards in Plaza Suite. Written by another very noteworthy playwright, Neil Simon, it recounts why three different couples are staying at the Plaza in Manhattan. All three couples are played by Sarah and her husband Matthew Broderick in a triple role. It was much awaited until the Coronavirus, and New York State Governor Andrew Cuomo (indirectly), decided to shut down the production.

Sarah is one of eight children, and was brought up in Ohio, not New York. When she was a child, all she ever wanted was to have a bedroom not shared by three others, and not have fights over dinner scraps with her siblings as well as with Rex, the family’s Doberman. Now, she’s worth one-hundred-fifty million dollars (Bing search engine, 2019).

Ms. Parker has a line of haute couture women’s shoes that she’s always busy promoting. She belongs before an audience though, because she is very charismatic.

“Judy, Judy, Judy,” is what Cary Grant said about Judy Garland. “Ruby” is from Ashley’s first movie, Ruby in Paradise, one that drew unusually positive notices. In 1993, none other than Roger Ebert called it: “one of the very best performances of the year.”

(This is a still in promotion of Big Stone Gap from 2014. This movie is mostly unknown, except to die-hard Ashley fans like me. She’s doing that cute thing she always does.)

Ashley insisted that she wear this huge, eight-pound, solid-gold crucifix to demonstrate the character’s commitment to Baby Jesus. The director disagreed, but look who won? Ashley shifted the dynamic and direction of her role from small town striver, to big league Baby Jesus lover, one who was always on the hunt for converts, and Christian adventure.

Here, Ashley tries to proselytize an unsuspecting quarterback from the high school football team. That’s a Bible concordance she’s offering free of charge. Ashley hijacked the production so she could troll for new Christians.

Ashley, if you ever read this, I’m sorry, but you are one very funny muse. I don’t even know if you still follow Jesus the Christ...

Ashley is known in Hollywood as the one who should have had a much bigger career than she did. Ms. Judd’s Harvard by the way (she has a Masters in Government Policy and Women’s Studies aka Lesbian Studies), and if you ever meet her she”d tell you this five minutes into the discussion. Listening to Christian sermons her entire life has made her completely self-involved — “Me, me, me...”

Ashley Judd just posted a passage in admiration of the Bhagavad Gita, the ancient Hindu religious scripture. Could she be at last distancing herself from that grotesquery of the guy hanging by his wrists? Has she finally seen the light?

Because Ashley is a lifelong lover of Baby Jesus, even the most optimistic are doubtful of her deprogramming. Yet Ms. Judd has always been a seeker of spiritual truths — after all, as she is very quick to interject in any social gathering: “I’m Harvard, how ’bout you?”

The passage she quoted concerns taking righteous, just progress, instead of only craving the prize at the end of the journey. Somewhat similar is this adage: We are only responsible for the effort, not the result.

By getting our act together, he means outfit everyone with face masks? I would wonder why God would go on a killing spree. Why isn’t he saving lives instead? The God that these Christians are talking about sounds like one of the kind that tosses the heretics into the volcano...

On local, Kentucky Tonight TV, Ashley lets it all hang out in camouflage fatigues and assault rifle. She was asked what she thought about the Ahmaud Arbery murders in her beloved South:

“Come on, he was outside his sector, I would have taken care of him myself. So in honor of the valiant NRA gun holders, I will be boosting their depressed property values in their housing development. I’ve bought property down the street from the Ahmaud-jogging take-down.

“I want to stand behind, and remain in good standing, with all White folk, not just in Georgia, but all across this great White land that I call home... White folk are my people, good Christians with assault rifles that I am so drawn. I stand beside all my White brothers and sisters as they continue their centuries long subjugation of our Negro inferiors. Racial violence is my other joy, besides Baby Jesus...

“Why have there been eight generations of Judds in the South if not to exploit racial relations? Hmm? Can you exploit the Negro up North? Of course not, but I can in the Southland. This is where I belong, holding down the Southern Negro for my benefit.

“I endorse the South because I am all for the lynchings, the random shootings of Blacks. I don’t want people to see my residency South of the Mason-Dixon as an endorsement of what the North calls “madness,” when I know it is only real progress in the race wars, and in the Negro conquest. If Ashley gives her seal of approval to the South, America says okay to any Southern, violent extracurriculars...

“I just wanna say that I reached out to the ones doing their best to hold down the Negro, the ones pulling the trigger for Aryan life, and for Baby Jesus, and to keep all of our South pure of the Negro influence. Well [tears well in Ashley’s eyes], they took NRA defense courses. Damn, they are good, real good people. I am proud to say that they are now my friends, friends for life...

“If a White wants to kill an unarmed, uppity Negro for walking on a construction site, even though it’s not the White’s house, and he didn’t take anything, who cares if the Negro gets shot?

“The reason local Brunswick and Georgia State police did nothing for two months is because they’re fighting Negro crime day in and day out. The whole thing wreaks of a lack of Christian values on the part of the Negro. Up with White power!”

At which point, Ashley fired a dozen rounds into the air, and screamed, “Heil!!!”

Salma Hayek and Ashley Judd first met on the set of Freida where in one scene, they had tangoed together. I found this rarity on Youtube where Salma and Ashley discuss Salma’s boobs:

“...This is zee trick from my grandma, jumping jacks. You gotta strengthen the boobboobulars. When they bounce into your face, you’re bouncing high enough. A plastic surgeon told me I needed them reduced for health reasons, but these are my paychecks, my bread and butter. I told him that I can’t get ’em done because then I’ll never work again in Tinsel Town. These are double-F cups, Ashley.”

“I was thinking double-Gs.”

“Nope, these are near Hendricks size, but not quite. At last year’s Oscars, Christina and me talked about our impressive racks, and she confided in me: ‘I bet you’re GG,’ I said ‘Nope, not quite, I’m FF.’ Anyhow to keep working in Hollyweird they have to be toned, and not sag, so I make sure I do the jumping jacks.”

“Yours are bionic. It’s as if they’re made of some space-age, gravity-defying material.”

“Thank you, Ashley, I’m very proud of them. I try not to be conceited about them, but when you got em—”

“You gotta flaunt em.”

“I understand your hurt, Ashley, but you have a pretty face.”

“Thanks, Salma, that means a lot to me...”

Given Ashley Judd’s belief that Ana was Jesus’ wife, Ashley isn’t a Bible literalist. She believes in a messiah with little scriptual foundations.

Ashley has invented her idea of what her savior should be, and she is running with it. She could have just as easily spent her life kneeling before an impoverished hatter in Elizabethan England who told tales about love and redemption for the Lord, and of course, tales concerning bowler hats.

Any scripture to the contrary of her Jesus the Christ inventions, she dismisses as heresy, and in opposition to her profound passion for Baby Jesus...

As written below, Jesus’ fictional wife, Ana, is a last ditch attempt for so-called feminist Christians to sound progressive. Doing a textual search of the Bible, Ana’s existence is not supported anywhere.

Yet feminists need look no further than Mary Magdalene for the wife of Jesus. She was the one that showed up at the tombs in an effort to claim Jesus’ body. Jesus the Christ’s apostles didn’t even bother to pick up his body.

At the sepulcher were “Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, and Mary the mother of James, and other women...” Jesus had at least five women visit him, and not one man. Mary, the mother of James, was unattached. She didn’t have a husband, because she was impregnated by a john.

What were these women’s economic means of support? Christ was not a farmer. He was said to be a carpenter. Yet how could he be one, in the desert, where there weren’t any timbers? He hung out with a prostitute and her friends, likely also hookers.

Then, again, how did this cult make a living? There was a very meager currency in Drachma, which had no assigned, market value.

Meaning that they got by on barter. Christ did preaching of some kind, but would people near starvation hand over loaves and fishes to hear Jesus say things befitting a carny, or a finale of “Love one another”?

What would this motley crew barter — one pretending to be God, and at least five women? I think we know the answer to that question. The women were hookers. Christ’s house of the Lord, was actually his house of prostitution. Christ was their pimp, and the apostles were the johns.

Or you can believe that: Jesus the Christ and his girls had a very steady income from Sunday services; the capital-generator was his sermons, not the girls; he passed around the hat for meaningless tokens (did he accept Lord and Mastercard?)

Jesus the Christ busked for tips when no one cared about an animalistic, weird, false prophet scribbling in the dirt. He saved one of his hookers from stoning for screwing a married man — why else would he care about her, and put himself in harm’s way with a lynch mob? Then he expected the favor to be returned, or worse. Without owning land, he sold flesh. This is all he had on offer.

Jesus the Christ made infamous, 70s, heroin dealer, Superfly, seem like a choir boy. The Bible never even bothered to suggest he had wholesome, economic possibilities, because after the Crucifixion, Christ was a beggar (“Have ye here any meat?”).

There is a dearth of female players in the Bible. Women like the Madonna and Mary Magdalene play second fiddle to primary players Jesus, Peter, and the rest of the apostles . Even villains, Pontius Pilate, and Judas, are all men (Ashley can at least rally around a bible where guys are evil!)

Those two women named Mary above, function as accessories like belts, and do not utter a single sentence in Ashley’s beloved Bible. The women in the New Testament never said a word, their gender only function as Biblical mutes, as stand-ins for real people.

(Editor’s note: Mary, mother of Baby Jesus, had the three verses atrributable to a female in the New Testament. She is speaking to an angel, and attempting to get clarification as to how she is pregnant when, she says, “I did not know a man.” Back on planet earth, the pregancy explantation was much simpler and much more logical: The Madonna was knocked up because she was a prostitute.)

Ashley must love the fact that her gender is held down, and silenced, in her favorite book, one that is incredibly poorly-written. Why else would Ashley Judd kneel before the figurehead of a religion that has no regard for her gender is beyond me.

To try to shore up the pathetic portrait the Bible paints of women, Ashley Judd invited author Sue Monk to an Instagram talk, Saturday, May 2nd, at 11AM ET. Monk invented Ana, the fictional wife of Jesus the Christ. Ashley and this author will talk about Ana and what she means to feminists who’ve been locked out of the Bible.

Ashley to the interested observer, you and your guest look much like you’re both desperate to keep the faith amidst overwhelming neglect and misogyny...

I’m looking for common ground between myself and Ashley. As a Christian, she is likely into prayer. Ashley probably spends most of her day praying for this and that, praying for others, and on and on. When she drives to my house from Tennessee, and at last we hang out, I’ll tell her about active prayer.

Ms. Judd believes in passive prayer: Just pray for crap, and Jesus sorts out your request, and fulfills your prayer order. This is little different from the Amazon order queue. On the other hand, I only believe in active prayer, where I have to do the work to make the prayer, or wish, come true. Unlike Ashley, I don’t hand off what I need done to the ether in the heavens above, and then expect results.

Ashley believes baby Jesus isn’t so backed up with prayer requests, that he can promptly fulfill hers. Ashley’s Jesus the Christ operates in an alternate dimension, and isn’t necessarily restricted by time constraints.

Everything is done at once, as soon as Baby Jesus gets out of meetings with the Pope, and high-level operatives such as Ms. Judd.

At such meetings, Ashley pushes for poverty relief, and a women’s right to choose to have their calves visible in skirts. If their schedules conflict, Ashley returns to her passive prayer method for making her top-level, bulleted, agenda items come to fruition...

My deprogramming efforts of Ashley have gone much slower than I had hoped. Here’s her rationale now for not leaving her intolerant, purity crusade, aka Christianity:

“Ray, come on, please. I bought the figurines. I paid half a million dollars for solid-gold Nativity figurines.

“On my night stand, I have Baby Jesus in his manger along with attendant Mary and Joseph. You can see the reverence in each of their eyes. They’re sitting on 24-karat gold well-arranged hay. The mint included the father, the son, and the holy ghost for no extra charge, even though I would have paid double.

“I can’t just dump Christianity now. I have the figurines! I’m sorry, I’m in love with Christianity, and especially these figurines. I pray to them every night. I polish them as soon as I wake up every day. These figurines are so great, and so life-like.

“When people visit, the first thing I show them is my solid-gold Nativity figurines. I pull a Vanna White of Wheel of Fortune. You know, the hand sweep in front of the prize Buick. Everyone is so impressed with my solid-gold Nativity figurines. My little dolls glow. I even had a carpenter come in to give them special, dimmable Nativity lighting in the ceiling right above my night stand.

“Sorry, I will own my solid-gold Nativity figurines for the rest of my life. Meaning I’m a Christian. Sorry, but the figurines shine new light on my faith. They come first...”

In many jurisdictions, that would have committed Ashley to long-term care in a State-run psychiatric institution, but she lives in Kentucky, so insanity due to Christianity is tolerated, and even lauded. After all, they voted in Trump’s Bitch McConnell as their Senator...

It’s Ashley’s 52nd birthday, so she posted a video on Instagram of her cards, gifts, and posters. Inexplicably, there’s a large drawing of three volcanoes that look a lot like boobs. This is captioned with “all the best.”

Here’s an interesting card inscription: “Ashley, stay as one with Christ. It’s the only way to avoid eternal damnation. Love, Pastor Jane. P.S., let’s talk soon about forming an anti-Choice, anti-gay crusade. We need your star power to bring our town to the next level in the Christian purity space!”

Brad wrote this on one of the posters: “I really enjoy bible trivia night with you down at the Y. You know so much. You really do. You’re the pride of the YWCA. You are. Fondly, from Bradley, another foot soldier in Christ.”

And another: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Cindy, Jan, and Marsha, always say that you’re the best baby sitter they’ve ever had. You really get it! Keep up the good work, Ashley! Love, Carol.”

Then Meryl had this to offer: “Watching you at summer stock was so inspiring. You’re right, I do need baby Jesus in my life to elevate my repertoire. Stop by my Nashville residence real soon, and I’ll let you shine my Oscars. Oh, and happy birthday. You’re 65 now?”

From the town civic group: “Happy birthday, Ashley! The Mothers without Partners Fellowship thanks you from the bottom of our hearts for the summer blowouts you hold all summer long! What is a celebrity doing in our podunk, nothing, little town? Everyone loves your body, by the way! Up with women!”

Then this from a perky girl who grew up nearby: “Mrs. Judd, I never knew that we were neighbors. Thanks for always letting the cheerleading squad sleep over so we can perfect our routines. You’re the best! Happy birthday! Love, Taylor!”

Ashley is floating yet another script idea. This one reprises her Star Trek role from a Christian perspective. Again, she plays Robin Fig-leaf, Star Fleet girlfriend, although now she’s twenty-five years older.

Ashley’s character now has her own USS Enterprise, although it’s on a much smaller scale, because women in the year 8274 AD, are not yet given equality, even though they deserve it. Let’s listen to Ashley’s elevator pitch:

“I’m finally given command of my own star-cruiser, but it is a hunk of junk. I tool through the Universe in my 500-year-old jalopy of a starship. Robin, my character, seeks strange, new worlds where women are still treated as they always have been, like crap.

“I am known as Robin, ex-Star Fleet girlfriend, looking for purpose, and women to save, but here’s where things get really interesting. I search high and low for women and girls that I can convert to Christianity.

“I check star logs. I check everything I can, searching for girls and women that will take Baby Jesus as their personal savior. Each week, I find communities of girls and women, needing only to be proselytized. I head out from galaxy to galaxy spreading the gospel of my Lord and master, Baby Jesus.

“They all have resolutely rejected the dominating male, and his phallus — which we will never admit to envying — in favor of governance by girls and women. Baby Jesus is the only male we allow in our universe of contemplation.

“I gotta winner here, Spielberg. I can go TV, I can go movie, but we’re going Baby Jesus together. What do you say, Stevie?...”

“Ass, grass, or cash, no one rides free.” Is anyone old enough to remember this bumper sticker, and its hitchhiker payment arrangement? This later became the mantra of the entire militant feminist movement. Ashley will explain:

“It demonstrated the young woman’s desire to be independent, and to be self-sufficient. Personally, I felt it was liberating and comforting that I could secure transport as a sexual quid pro quo.

“Traveling this country was now in reach for me and all my girlfriends, simply by pitching in, and putting out. I have put several copies of this American treasure of a bumper sticker onto my bedroom wall. It was available in pink, that’s my favorite color...”

“Okay, here’s my elevator pitch: I’ve been working on this script to great effect. It’s called Annie Ashley get your Cross. I cannot tell a lie, it’s very loosely based on Annie Oakley get your Gun, but boy-oh-boy, is it ever packed with Christian fun and excitement.”

“...In the climax, frontier Ashley says: ‘You’re a tough man to fall in love with, Jerold McKinley.’ She gives the sign of the cross. Then, in defiance of her moral compass, she kisses this bearded renegade in slo-mo. Then she shakes her fists skyward, again in slo-mo. She shouts: ‘It’s love at last.’

“Once baby Jesus transmits his blessings to her, she can enjoy star crossed love between a gunslinging gambler and a Great Plains, Sunday school teacher...

“But let’s turn back the wheels of time. In the pilot, Annie Ashley wants to build a little, red schoolhouse, one founded on the Christian principles of purity and austerity. She’ll call it The Highway to Heaven School for Curious Learners. But where will she get the money for her edifice, and the students to occupy the seats?

“Well, along comes Jerold. He has gambling loot, but is he as ethical as the Lord and Annie Ashley require? That could be trouble, lots of it.

“Yet the kids part of the equation promises to be easy-peasy. There are plenty of teenagers available as a troupe is ready to compete in the Christian Nationals. Nearby Omaha is hosting the big show, and they’re passing through Tippemerry Bluffs, where Annie Ashley has staked her claim.

“After brief discussion, Annie Ashley convinces the troupe that they need the learnin’, and she will provide this learnin’ if they work, dawn-to-dusk, her 200 acres of wheat fields, making cereal for Chicago. The troupe signs on, and boy-oh-boy are they in for adventure, and good, old-fashioned work, plenty of it.

“In the Easter episode, the County marshals ride into Annie Ashley’s farm, having heard talk of slave labor conditions, and of teens detoured from Christian fun and excitement in Omaha. Annie Ashley brings all her charges out for inspection, but they are all well-fed, and docile.

“The marshals realize they don’t have much of a case against Annie Ashley, the kids are fed after all, so they ride on ahead to the Bluffs to get water for their horses.

“In the end, the troupe actually wants readin’, writin’, and ’rithmetic from Annie Ashley, who now has 200 acres of fertile farmland, and Jerold McKinley, remember him? Well, Annie Ashley and Jerold hit it off big time.

“In the presence of the Lord, they soon enough get married, and have their honeymoon. While they’d love to have children, Annie Ashley is on in years, so she can’t honor Jerold with spawn. Curtain falls on episode 17.

“What do you think, Oprah?”

Ashley was answering questions at her most recent TED talk, when someone asked if she was really Harvard, and if her erudition was actually an affectation. This is her response, verbatim:

“Funny you should ask, it’s not an affectation. I am the real deal. I really am Harvard, I’m Class of ’10. We were “the Perfect 10s.” I’m not bragging, our class really was perfect. It was a stairway to heaven of greatness, and I played a major role.

“We represented an oh-so-glorious assemblage of future politicians, stateswomen, doctors, lawyers, each greater than the prior. I had the extreme privilege of socializing with these giants of thought, these captains of industry, present and future. From an ecumenical and epistemological basis alone, it was ethereal, heaven-like really.

“I shall never forget the raucous, even naughty, celebrations where my girls shared their militant, feminist camaraderie. I was on top of the world, looking down on creation, and the only reason I could find to explain this wonderful rush of superiority, was that I was, in fact, superior to the hoi polloi of lesser institutions.

“These included the seven, other Ivy League schools, which were effectively correspondence, night school, community colleges, only worthy of granting GED, high school equivalency diplomas.”

Ashley made a few, disastrous political picks. Her selections for President, Kirsten Gillibrand, and Elizabeth Warren, somehow missed the mark. After a businesswoman conference at her alma mater, Harvard Inc., Ms. Judd has decided to open a betting service with a twist.

She makes betting recommendations, and you bet opposite of her. Incorporated in Delaware as Bet Against Ashley, she will make picks for NCAA basketball games, political races, Oscar contention, the sky’s the limit.

Just look at Ashley’s starring roles. She consistently picks losers. Can you imagine how lucrative her Oscar bets would be, if you just Bet Against Ashley. Her University of Kentucky Basketball team is floundering this year, but do you think she’ll ever pick Duke or UNC Chapel Hill against her Wildcats? Ashley says UK, you say Michael Jordan’s alma mater, UNC, and ka-ching!

Ashley has a preternatural ability to pick the wrong team, movie, guys, anything. Get behind Ashley, when you Bet Against Ashley. Betting picks are by subscription only, and is only $500 a month. (There is no guarantee of improved returns, but come on, Ashley can never pick ’em right)...

Ashley has been pitching her new, eight-part, limited series, Ashley Knows Best, to television studio executives:

“I’m Ashley, just like my character here. I play a single mom who is Harvard-educated. I’m raising two, teenage girls, named Cindy and Marsha, in suburban Nashville. My estranged husband, Mike, left town with his floozy. She’s Melania, and she appears in episodes two and eight.

“His complaint with Ashley is that she was a terrible cook. Ashley hated that Mike never told her that he loved her. Once it became clear that Mike would remain unaffectionate, Ashley rejoined her Church group, to be with her first, true love, Baby Jesus.

“She always loved the easy camaraderie of those imbued with the spirit of Baby Jesus. Ashley quickly rose up the Church hierarchy, and she soon became the first, female deacon of her parish.

“Her children were immensely popular at the Church socials where they excelled at playing the banjo, and where they sang in the Gospel choir to standing room only crowds.

“By the final episode of Ashley Knows Best, Ashley, I mean the TV character, is creating a State-wide council of churches to fight prostitutes, battle anti-Christian sentiment at the grade-school level, promote worldwide, Christian purity and celibacy, and end misogyny.

“After I do all this, I run for the Senate and win. I have to fight the Crown Virus with double gloving, and hazmat suits. Even accused of fear mongering, I win again, but there are no businesses left, but I still win because Jesus brought the busineesses back to life with another of his Hail Marys. The message: We always win with Jesus...

“All the while, I’ve been wrestling with Baby Jesus’ position in my world. He has a profound disgust for gays and lesbians. He did nothing for African Americans, and he is against women’s reproductive rights, as well as their leadership in his Church.

“But I am deeply in love with Baby Jesus even though we disagree a bit. My pastor said that I just need to pray harder, and I’ll see things the way my savior does. Ashley, I mean the character Ashley, looks skyward for a sign of deliverance from lack of faith. Tension builds. Curtain falls.

“What do you think, Oprah?...”

Ashley Judd’s Mom, Naomi, was a registered nurse, yet never served in the war in Viet Nam. As a (former?) Republican, Naomi must have backed the War there, unless she was removed from any news source, and didn’t hear of Nixon’s secret bombing of Cambodia, and other war crimes by her GOP.

Ashley Judd was on a nonstop flight from JFK to Tokyo recently. She chewed out the man sitting next to her for five hours, because he loosened the belt of his trousers.

Standing before everyone in a cabin full of frightened travelers, she started to yell: “Keep it in your pants, women-hater. This is assault. You’re assaulting me! Stewardess! This passenger is a misogynist! Stewardess! Don’t turn your back on me! Do you see this?! People, I’m Harvard!”

Ashley was so incensed that she threw and landed punches. The pilot was almost forced to land in Hawaii so sky marshals could restrain Ashley’s outburst, but instead, the stewardesses fed her lunch so she couldn’t speak or fight. She spit that out, so the crew had to rely on their final resort in their passenger restraining arsenal, the ball gag. Later, she calmed down a bit after they plied her with booze.

By the time the 747 landed at Tokyo’s Benihana International Airport, Ashley could only be taken from the jet in a wheelchair. Judd got a gag order against release of this timely news from a female Los Angeles federal judge in exchange for back rubs.

I only heard this through the grapevine, because I regularly take the same flight to Tokyo for Other Letter’s Sumo wrestling coverage, but I was covering Trump and the coronavirus at OL New York HQ during this particular news cycle...

In response to the Coronavirus, Ashley Judd will be praying to Baby Jesus for absolution. She is setting out on a Praise the Lord Marathon. She will be taking a naked, late Winter hike of the entire Appalachian Trail in hopes that she catches the Coronavirus (or its equivalent).

Then she expects Baby Jesus to intercede, and “Stop that virus dead in its track, or my name isn’t Ashley Judd, blesséd by the Lord, Baby Jesus.”

Ashley also added: “I’m looking for yet another Baby Jesus miracle, and by catching Coronavirus, I know I’ll have one soon enough. I’m already on track, because I’ve seen Marian apparitions — the ghost of Mary, Jesus’ mom.

“Once Baby Jesus saves me from Coronavirus with his miracle, then I have a clear track to beatification, and sainthood. I’ve always wanted sainthood ever since Mother Teresa was a big deal. I have scores of years left on this Earth, but I want an exit strategy in keeping with my Lord, Baby Jesus. I need to honor him to the highest with my profound passion for him.

“Plus, I’ve been to Our Lady of Fátima. I could have seen all that Da Vinci and Michelangelo crap on my trip to Europe, but I spent the entire summer in Fátima contemplating the miracle of Baby Jesus....”

Our favorite heroine will soon be releasing her memoir, Ashley Judd was Robbed. In it, Ashley recounts how rapists stole her innocence, and Harvey Weinstein ended her greatest career prospects. She was about to become a Hobbit in Lord of the Rings, before the now-disgraced movie mogul derailed those plans for Lilliputian greatness.

I caught up with Ashley as she was climbing Mount Katahdin in the deepest brush of rural Maine. Ms. Judd explained how she rose from the darkest of despair, and you may be surprised at what kept her going:

“I started to learn the Negro, slave spirituals of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries. My mom, Naomi, knows all of them. I’ll give you a sample:

‘You gotsta believe in Baby Jesus, you just gotsta. Since I was a youngun’, I just knew Baby Jesus would get here by hook or by crook, and wudja know, I get to see him in visions.’

“Now here’s the tricky part, the chorus:”

“‘Dang, Baby Jesus, dang. I love you so effin’ much. Tra, la, la. Tra, la, la...’ Then the next verse, its in rondelay form. I hand it off, you hand it back. Think hot potato, and you got it!’”

“Okay, I guess, but isn’t the Negro lyric racist?”

“Not at all, it celebrates how the Hill people happily live, side-by-side, with their shackled Negroes.

“And it seems spoken, not sung.”

“It’s yelped, not exactly sung, which is the native tongue of us Kentucky hillbillies. We’re lifelong yelpers.

“Our spirituals reflect where we stand on the totem pole. Jesus honors the poor, and so do we, because poverty is where we belong in Kentucky, right beside our Senator McConnell, looking up at the rest of America. Poverty shows closeness to God’s principles. Poverty is close to godliness.

“Just because we keep voting in McConnell and we’s still dirt poor, don’t mean we’s stupid, we just gotsta love Baby Jesus more. The problem ain’t McConnell, our poverty is because we might miss church once a year. Church gets our minds off of doing anything about our poverty, and instead, thinking all about the black maze of Baby Jesus.

“If I want to remember who I am, I transport myself back to being a child. I was living in a one-room shack with no indoor plumbing, and my family hitched rides into Louisville to be domestics in mansions where boss ladies screamed at us because we dressed in rags. That’s who I am. I’m a hillbilly who gangsta loves baby Jesus.

”Yet with the gotsta-love-Jesus culture, I cannot help but remember how pure of spirit we were, and how elated we were just to be alive, because Baby Jesus gave us life...”

Here’s a find, an Ashley Judd Youtube on the Kentucky Bible Broadcasting Network:

“If you’re going at Baby Jesus long and hard like I do, you need both quality refreshment, and serious hydration, so you need Ashley Judd’s Holy Water. Each 12-ounce bottle has been blessed by me, and I’m a certified marriage officiant...”

Then Ashley broke from her own commericial and offered this sage, insight regarding Christian devotion:

“...Once you get on board the baby Jesus love train then you can leverage your profound passion for him with your desire for loving from the twelve apostles, who take turns with their last supper offerings.

“Then you got it going on all cylinders, and you can really set the joint on fire. Hot! Hot! Hot! Christian women got it all going on!...”

Here’s a YouTube find. Ashley was competing for Miss Kentucky, and out of boredom, the master of ceremonies cut her off during the explanation of her aspirations:

“Our next contestant is Miss Asheville. Tell us about yourself, and why you’d like to be Miss Kentucky.”

“I’m Ashley Judd, and I’m cute and perky, with a dash of militant feminism. I’d like to take my Miss Kentucky crown and parlay it into a Senate seat followed by a run for President. Then I’d free all the beasts of burden—”

“Our next contestant is Miss Louisville. Tell us about yourself and why you’d like to be Miss Kentucky.”

“I like to wiggle my butt, then lean over in low-cut dresses, and guys whistle when I do.”

“Miss Louisville is our new, Miss Kentucky...”

I always shed a tear watching Ashley’s youthful optimism squashed.

Regular readers of these pages know what I think of Ashley’s South. Using an example, let me try to phrase this succinctly.

When the Klan lynched Blacks just because they could get away with it, why did they burn Crosses? Was this in defiance of their Lord, Jesus the Christ, or in solidarity with him? The consensus I received was that it was in solidarity. Their Christ looked positively on murdering people, solely because of their skin color. Christ celebrates making people fear and run for their lives.

The de facto Southern religion is Christianity, and these two-faced Christians did absolutely nothing to stop both bigotry and lynching. Somehow, with the Confederate flags waving, they are proud of being bigots and murderers. If there was a real savior, he would be coming at the lot of them with hatchets, and AK-47s.

The new South is the old South with Whole Foods Markets, while their open-carry gun culture is increasingly lethal, and their religion increasingly oppressive of rights, especially women’s reproductive rights.

This brings me back to Ashley Judd, and the reason for raising holy Hell here. She is a well-known progressive, a voice of reason, a beacon of light shining through the Southern filth. Then why is she living in ground zero of hatred and intolerance? If I ever met her, I would ask her: What the Hell are you doing in that Southern snake pit?

Dean Cain is an actor I had never heard of, and likely, no one else had either. Cain tried to take down Ashley Judd because she has a puffy face, and because she just did a promo for Presidential candidate, Elizabeth Warren. He wanted to hurt her by belittling apparent obesity.

Well, Cain, a capo of the Fascists for Trump Campaign, made an a*hole of himself. She’s puffy faced because she has migraine headaches, and she’s being treated with Botox, a medication whose major side effect is bloating.

Given that Cain is ape excrement, let us turn our attention to Ashley Judd’s treatment modality. Botox has the potential of ruining her face, and the beauty of her face is an obvious selling point in her career as an actress. Vanderbilt, where she’s being “treated,” is not a U.S. News and World Report top hospital, but New York Presbyterian is (NYP has interns from Ivy League, Cornell, and Columbia).

IMHO, Ashley is being treated on the cheap, likely by Mexican med school grads flooding the Southern border in caravans at nightfall. To Ashley, and her medical treatment “straw hat and dungarees team,” good health-care, is good enough health-care.

Vanderbilt is the equivalent of Mexican health-care. I mean, come on, it’s South of the Mason-Dixon Line. Southern health-care is seen elsewhere as a form of doctor-patient sadomasochism. When Ashley emerges from “treatment” as Joan Rivers incarnate, and when the movie offers all disappear, she won’t have anyone to blame but herself. People will refer to her as Joan, or Ms. Rivers, here forward.

I wanted to be her health proxy, and put her on the course to wellness, but she ignores my entreaties. Ashley confided in me: “I’m not good enough to get modern, Northern, health-care. I’m not. I’ll be the first to admit it. I’m a Southern woman after all, and I live for Christianity, which is a homophobic, misogynistic cult. Just do the math...”

Ashley, at your Weinstein sexual extortion trial, be prepared to serve as prosecutor. Your attorney could come up lame. Develop a legal patter. Raise your voice and point at Weinstein. Slam your fist on the table and demand a change in venue. Because we all know you’ll never get a fair trial in this town.

Offer appropriate penance for Weinstein. Demand castration so no one has to again go through what you did. Bring sushi knives to the bench to drive home the point. Brandish the knives while you interrogate Weinstein. Hurl one right by his ear. Discuss Lorena Bobbitt at length, and ask Weinstein if castration is acceptable punishment for a lifetime of abuse. Brandish the sushi knives at key points in your delivery.

If the judge asks what this has to do with your interrogation, say you’re getting to that. Make it known early on that this isn’t questioning, its interrogation. The judge will appreciate that you’re so direct and to the point, as court time costs money.

And if you can get the witness to spill his guts early on, you could all wrap it up early and go golfing. Or play your favorite, basketball, play whatever leisure activity you want while you’re not in the courtroom grilling witness after witness.

I was once a newbie like you, Ashley, anxious to stick it to the man. Well, the man backed off. Now, it’s your turn to get justice.

As I watch the Screen Actors’ Guild Awards, I wonder what Ashley Judd is up to. These are all her peers, but she may have gotten beyond the vanity of the silver screen. She needs to find a Second Act.

Now that Bombshell bombed, Charlize Theron is a greeter at Burger King. She has found precious dignity asking: “Would you like fries with that?” and “Take a seat anywhere, have it your way.”

Heather Graham was just seen with a Facebook-Celebrity-Edition date that she scrounged up. Apparently, Heather’s life is secure as a trophy wife for some producer type. She no longer needs to work for the post office as a postal courier, and doesn’t care about her loss of financial independence being her man’s pet.

Gwynnie is set for life with her Goop, and her husband, Chadley Wonder-bred. She’ll be hawking vibrators until she’s 95 years old.

But what about Ashley, point woman of the Big Four? She gave up on politics, she now lives on the periphery of society hunting raccoons with her 12-gauge. Last I heard, she spends her Screen Actors’ Guild pension on Milky Way bars, and she weighs North of 450 pounds.

Is there anything Ashley can do besides get fat? Couldn’t she work at Thorntons, the convenience store at the gas station chain? That’s dignified labor, not so vaunted as chasing Oscar gold perhaps, but it is something. Working nights, and far off the radar, can be her self worth, and her salvation.

Ashley, if you’re out there, bring your pillow to work to keep in your employee locker. I mean for down time, when it gets slow...

Here’s the latest from our favorite comeback star:

“Ashley Judd here, with another Baby Jesus TV Minute. Are you tired of all the humiliation you get because of your passion for baby Jesus? Then just consider with whom you’ll be spending eternity. That’s right, with Baby Jesus.

“By all accounts, he’s well toned, a great conversationalist, and an even better lover. Every girl engaged to Baby Jesus can pepper him with questions, and love him fiercely (there’s a trillion instances of Baby Jesus, so everyone has at him at once).

“Every Jewish woman is eating their heart out. I’m Ashley Judd, and this has been another Baby Jesus TV Minute.”

Ashley Judd has published yet another spirituality book. This one is entitled: Where can I put the Love of Baby Jesus? In it, she answers many nagging questions about her faith:

“...You know how much I love baby Jesus — so effing much. Yet I am asked all the time how our Savior can be so good to Hollywood superstars, but he locks out the poor people from the feeding trough.

“The answer is simple: Jesus allows poverty because the poor deserve their poverty, they enjoy living in squalor. God is just, good, and true, but if you’re just a loser, what can he do? Baby Jesus is all-powerful, but he isn’t that all-powerful. South Americans take note. That was an easy answer.

“Why do Christians proselytize Jews and Muslims? Come on, do I have to answer this? Christians are pure and holy, everyone else is dirty and gross. We know that Jews and Muslims have a raw deal. We know their religion sucks, so we straighten them out by baptizing and cleansing away their lesser religion.

“We have mayo and Wonder Bread, we have puritanical sex, we’re better than all those homos and lesbos, so we extend our hand out to the heathen to join us on the other side. Teenage and preggers is just fine when you walk with the Lord.

“We’re all sinners, but I get redeemed for my sins. If someone is an alcoholic, they don’t need to suffer guilt, they can just keep on drinking. If you’re into the sacramental sauce, where else do you belong, but with Christianity.

“I sin all the time, every time, all Christians do, and if Jews and Muslims were honest, they’d say they’re the filthiest of sinners. Baby Jesus died on the Cross for our sins. If he hadn’t done that, we’d all live in the filth of our sins. By dying on the Cross, Baby Jesus proved his love for the Christian biomass...”

Ashley Judd has just put out a book about her spirituality. It’s entitled: Ten Days To A New You With Ashley Judd — And Baby Jesus... Here’s a passage:

“...Once you join Baby Jesus, and take on his fight, then it all falls into place. Your existence — your religious, spiritual, and professional spheres — align with Baby Jesus’, and it is all systems go.

“Once you firmly have Baby Jesus in your camp, you’ll notice how powerful you are in interpersonal relationships, in business negotiations, and yes, even day-to-day chores like cooking and cleaning are suddenly a snap. You have Baby Jesus’ genius, charisma, and his strength from on high is at your fingertips. Baby Jesus typically maintains a service orientation.

“You are in charge of your life now, no one else takes your steering wheel except Baby Jesus. You call the shots, it’s your show, and Baby Jesus and your pastor is your director. There isn’t any looking back again. You wave goodbye to all the inferiors who’ve held you back your entire life. Say: ‘Bye, bye! I’d like Baby Jesus’ Penthouse, please.’ That kinda spiritual elevator to the heavens. Whoosh!!

“Baby Jesus is your drug from here forward, forget drinking, smoking, or eating. You don’t need peer pressure to quit eating Milky Ways, or vino, you have ever-present Baby Jesus at your side, nudging you forward, to bounce off ideas to keep your sobriety. You’re up in the Heavens gazing into Baby Jesus’ loving eyes.

“You’ll hop out of bed every morning, looking forward to chitchatting with Baby Jesus. My opener at 6AM is: ‘Baby Jesus, whatcha got?’ He makes it clear what I’m to do, and I do it!!! What could be easier or simpler?

“It’s just you and the Baby Jesus forevermore. Keep it cool, but for all you girls out there, he makes a great lover. Soon, your passion for the Baby Jesus will be without bound. I threw feminism out the window once Baby Jesus arrived from Heaven. I’m the fair, weaker sex, and he protects me from harm, so I submit to his will. If this is extortion, count me in.

“If my head is spinning, Baby Jesus tells me to lay down, and he’ll take care of everything. He’ll offer new found Baby Jesus pearls of wisdom, which I greedily swallow whole. I am so blessed to have Baby Jesus in my life, and you can be, too.

“Your ultimate goal is to marry Baby Jesus, and Chapter 38 is devoted to marrying the Lord without joining your local nunnery. You will also be making other goals with Baby Jesus, some he wants for you, others you’d hope he’d accomplish with you.

“Memorize the 893 pages of this book, and soon you, too, will be on Baby Jesus’ wavelength, you’ll be playing from the same play-book that Baby Jesus does. Follow my program, show Baby Jesus all the passion you have for him, and guaranteed, you will reach the highest high. Nothing could be that simple.

“Don’t forget to visit your Methodist Church, now in two flavors: Traditionalist, or actively trying to exterminate the gay problem through intervention; or modern, and just holier than thou. Because when you’re one of the chosen people, you have god’s permission to go at anyone...”

Ashley offers the celebrity, freshman orientation at Harvard. Because Ashley is a famous alumnus, she only shows around the creme de la creme de la creme. I caught up to her in Harvard Yard as she delivered her well-memorized spiel:

“You’re Harvard because you want to network, and hobnob with other very important people. If you wanted to be a grunge, you’d be going to MIT. You’re not Harvard because you want to learn anything. No, you’re Harvard because you want to cultivate relationships with the powerful, wealthy, and influential. Ones just like yourself.

“Now, if you look to your left, this is where the annual panty raid is held for incoming freshmen. Ah, such warm memories of being a freshwoman. You’ll quickly learn your place in the pecking order of the Harvard patriarchy, as I did. Although you could just go lesbo, and become a Lesbian Studies major. Ick!

“Here, on the other side of Harvard Square, is the spire of the Cathedral of the Holier than Thou. I spent many nights there getting in touch with my Baby Jesus as we discussed his plans for me, and he told me of all the passion he had for me.

“Hey, Jews! You’re missing out on civilization! It’s never too late to convert! Join a real goy, and come on back to my celebrity quarters for Wonder-Bread and mayo, my treat.

“Well, thank you very much for letting me guide you. As promised, here are your framed, eight-by-ten-inch glossies of myself to put on your Harvard dorm-room, mahogany credenzas. Does anything say Harvard more than mahogany, and oak-panelled dorms?

“When you have the world’s largest endowment, luxury and extravagance just comes with the territory. By the way, Harvard does not believe in socially conscious investing, so we’ll be on top of the heap until the only ones left on Earth are the cockroaches...”

Ashley’s wonderful hate group, the Methodist Church, just held a vote. They have decided to separate the 53% majority, the hard core bigots, from the rest of the mildly intolerant. My question for Ashley would be: Are you joining the institutionalized-homophobia and bigoted Traditionalists, or are you sticking with the slightly loony?

At issue, Methodists’ traditional opinion that same-sex union is against the teachings of Baby Jesus. Should gays and lesbians be imbued with full human rights, or should they continue to be locked out in the name of Baby Jesus?

Somehow you crazies are to decide the rights of others who are complete strangers to you. Ashley is stewing over this question as we speak, mulling over her precious Harvard texts on how to resolve moral dilemmas, and conferring with other loony-bird Christians.

I’m sure Ashley gives a ton of money to her church as they’re in the process of changing its name to Saint Ashley’s Protector of Kentucky.

When she took communion her preacher said: “May this story that changed everything change you.” Her pastor was, of course, referencing the story behind the construction funding of the Ashley Contemplation Wing of Saint Ashley’s. The Ashley Vestibule is expected to contain a bookshelf with very current Biblical monographs.

Deacon Blues went on to say that Ashley’s giving, changes Ashley at a DNA level. What’s more, she needs to fork over more dough to stay in good stead with her Savior. Otherwise, she can forget front row of pew seating.

I will just add this: Ashley disappoints me to no end, we do not have any commonality of belief to pursue this imaginary relationship. It is because her religion is so screwy, as is her politics.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Ashley Judd wrote back to me!

“Other Letter, I see what you wrote about me. You will never know the passion I feel for the Christ child. How he straightens me right out, how he is always around, and not spending time with two billion other Christians.

“He’s by my side, and he would be your side, too, if you only let him into your bedroom, your home, your neighborhood.

“Baby Jesus is the dope, Other. You haven’t lived life until Baby Jesus is front and center everywhere in your life’s path. I am not just another whack-a-doodler Christian, I am well on my way to achieving Baby Jesus enlightenment!

“Deacon Blues guaranteed that I’d soon be getting my Madonna Blue Belt, ready for down and dirty baby Jesus scuffles, and even combat. Heathens better watch their keesters! Ashley’s comin’ to get y’all!

“Baby Jesus always comes first! He is my spiritual master! I cannot live without him! He is so potent and overpowering! I love baby Jesus so effing much!”

Have you ever had an epiphany, when you finally know what someone is all about? When you have done everything in your power to get them to see the light, and they permanently remain entirely blind?

When you realize that she’s not for you, that her real soul mate is a Jesus freak at a Jesus freak convention. This is my Ashley Judd epiphany. I have much better things that I could be doing with my time than deprogramming, and getting friction from, a pathetic Jesus freak who is completely brainwashed, one who’s on a par with a Scientologist...

There is a footnote to my romance with imaginary Ashley. We spent months in premarital therapy. The relationship counselor said we had too much Sid and Nancy going on, and not enough Bogey and Bacall.

Our typically, ice-water-in-her-veins therapist ran out of a session after a particularly long argument, crying: “I can’t work under these conditions!!” This was the end of our marital therapy, and the end of the Other-Judd axis of power...

We were dancing our last waltz, when I asked Ashley: “Who did you want more, Baby Jesus or me?”

Eyes glazed over, she replied: “Baby Jesus, I need him more than life itself. He is my morning, noon, and night. He is my sun, my moon, and my stars. I cannot survive without the love of my Baby Jesus, with my pastor’s patient counsel being a close second.

“Other, join us in Christ, it is the only way [she extended her hand, which I pushed away, like in a scene from Invasion of the Body Snatchers]...”

Ashley Judd has believed in a loving god, and has felt this belief helps form a foundation of serenity, and has tried to spread the “good word” in the past. Yet she should be clear that it’s a loving god for her, many are not blessed as she is.

How are poor neighborhoods in America overseen by this loving god? The entire Third World has been cursed from cradle to grave. Then why did god force them to live in poverty? If this incompetent god isn’t keeping the world from bursting at the seams, what is?

Humanity is one of the very few species in Creation that will kill their own kind. The force preventing species annihilation is our sexual drive, because it’s typically intertwined with love and caring. Humankind tends to nurture as a result of this sexual drive.

The only loving god we have is the kindness that might be found in one another. Goodwill towards men, women, and children, keeps the earth revolving.

Does Ashley believe that some guy in the clouds runs the show, someone who’s somehow found the time to oversee billions of peoples’ lives? Having a loving god typically means that this god knows you on an individual basis, is a source of providence, and might look out for you, but the implausibility of this “loving god” is rarely addressed.

If Ashley is still devout as she seemed earlier, she refuses to speak about this religious confusion. In fact, she may have felt that the standard definition of god always put a square peg in a round hole, this omnipotent, loving god has a poor fit with reality.

Ashley is very familiar with Twelve-Step programs, yet disconnecting from a wholly impractical definition of god, one which is a central tenet of the Steps, can easily be an impediment to recovery.

The real spirituality is everywhere around us, but never in the clouds above us. To summon strength, anyone can witness the fortitude and methods of those before us, and of those today...

Ashley is at peace with her all-powerful creator. If you don’t know, Ashley had an abortion after being impregnated by a relative, so how could she ever be in peace with her creator? By Ashley’s religious calculus, she has to resolve how a brutal rape was in God’s plan.

If she believed in an initial set and forget, or a create and wait, force behind Creation, she’d understand that our existence, and our life experience was never preordained, pre-governed, or predetermined.

Instead, with a greater, more practical application of Creation’s purpose, we exist to keep our lives and those around us on track. We are tasked with keeping Creation on the straight and narrow. The creator’s work is finished, he (or she or gender-neutral) has given humanity the tools to move mountains, he won’t be moving any himself.

If Ashley so chose, she may provide support to those who find themselves dealing with sexual assault. This would make the worthwhile, and joyful, out of the worthless, and excruciatingly painful...

Here’s a question via the dedicated chat line I have with framed women’s libber, and militant feminist, Ms. Judd:

Ashley, wouldn’t you say that if women learned at an early age to defer to men, men would go easier on women, and women would put up less of a fight when they were used?

Everyone would be happier if women accepted being second class, and internalized their inferiority, as well as their biological limitations.

Ashley, why don’t you circulate these ideas with your United Nations pals as part of a rights package honoring women’s limitations? I await your response, and careful consideration...

I was culling my old video tape collection, when I found this gem:

“...Which is why Paltrow would only do the Shakespeare in Love remake for over $30 million. Although she’d do it for much less if there was an intelligible script, but the entire cast couldn’t carry the Elizabethan English last time. How could they carry it this time without another snow job read?”

“You gave Shakespeare four stars, didn’t you, Roger?”

“You’re done, Gene. Our next movie, Elves Take Over Santa’s Toy Factory, answers the question: If the labor relations between elf and Claus disintegrated, and the elves staged a walkout during the Christmas rush, could the holiday be saved?

“Quentin Tarantino has put together another masterpiece of modern cinema. Toy Factory has it all: women being murdered, men murdering the women, women being tortured — except it all takes place on the North Pole with mostly elves, not humans, who aren’t gender-neutral. Could anyone ask for more?

“Unfortunately, Gene, we don’t get to review many movies about elves pitted against Santa, but we have a great one here. The title role, Che Guevara-Elf, is done to a turn by Ashley Judd. Here, Ashley plays against type and gender as a male, violently-aggressive leprechaun. Her role as a bloodthirsty elf in mortal combat with Santa might at last be her Oscar-winner.

“This is the superhero breakout role we’ve all been waiting to see Ashley play. I never thought I’d be rooting so much for an elf, one dead set to do in Saint Nick, but I was on my feet when Ashley-Che Guevara-Elf signals the other elves in the toy factory to charge Santa’s back offices of Claus Enterprises.

“After a full half-hour shootout, the casualties are massive. With their superior firepower, Mister and Missus Santa are able to put away the rebellion, but not without Santa losing a hand, and a foot. The G rating was well-deserved, because everyone must see Elves Take Over Santa’s Toy Factory. It’s a breath of fresh air during another, tired Christmas season.

“Gene, we review thousands of movies each and every year, but have you ever felt so exhilarated watching a live-action, super hero movie about rebellious elves with assault rifles, hand grenades, and machetes?

“This movie was absolutely cathartic. It made me rethink Christianity, and Jesus’ place as a seasonal, economic stimulus. This relights the fires under our blessed, capitalistic, Christian holiday trees.

“Once the elves realized that lower toy output meant economic recession, Ashley’s character, Che Guevara-Elf, got her elves right back in the toy factory. This was my signal to do my share to get the economy in high gear, so as soon as I left the aisle seats at the Rialto, I hustled Christmas gifts for all my brood.

“Gene, I’m giving this thumbs up, way up. This was enthralling. I am a changed man. Ashley Judd has saved Christmas for all of us this year.”

“I can’t agree with you, Roger. Don’t have a heart attack on me, big guy. I just wasn’t convinced that they were real elves. Ashley Judd is not an elf, she is not the red-and-green, Rambo super hero she plays here. She took out, what, three dozen, non-union elves?

“I’m not being Scrooge, but I just couldn’t buy into Ms. Judd with green-and-red tights, prancing around, doing an Irish jig, with a semi-automatic assault rifle. I’m sorry, but this just didn’t work for me.

“I love our next movie though, it’s a sequel that’s forty years in the making. It interleaves the Dirty Harry series with the Charles Bronson blaxploitation classics. This warmed the cockles of my heart.

“Every single person that bled to death, had it coming big time. The pusher, the junkie, all blown to bits. Is there anything more satisfying in cinema, than subway shootouts between the under-armed, underclass, and SWAT teams in armored vehicles, especially for the holidays?...”

Ashley Judd has a new gig. In a University of Kentucky coaching shake-up, Ashley will be interim head coach of UK Basketball. It’s late in the season for Ashley’s favorite team, and their current coach was caught up in yet another recruiting scandal, so alumni wanted to bring in UK’s favorite alum.

Ashley has been a huge UK basketball booster for decades, but could she take home an NCAA title for the Wildcats? Ms. Judd is also Harvard and this has effected her coaching style. I caught up to her as she led her team through drills:

“I’m dribbling, I’m dribbling. I’m looking around. I’m using my peripheral vision. Where’s Jenkins? Okay, I don’t see Jenkins. Now, wait, where’s McIntyre? Okay, do I dish outside to McIntyre, or do I post up the middle for the score?

“I’m dribbling, I’m dribbling. I need to decide if McIntyre gets the ball, or do I keep it? Do I dish, or do I not dish? I dribble between my legs. Can you bring the ball over here? We shouldn’t showboat.

“I move outside the perimeter, then back inside the perimeter. I see an open shot. Do I shoot, do I pass? What should I do? Okay, I like this shooting opportunity. I get ready, two hands on the ball, I aim, I jump, and I fire.

“Okay, that didn’t hit the backboard, it was really meant for Jenkins, and Jenkins scores. This shows the importance of teamwork.

“I call for the ball. I have the hot hand, so I get the ball. I’m dribbling, I’m dribbling. I’m surveying the hardwood. Are there any likely candidates who can receive my pass of the ball?

“Jenkins defense is seven feet from him, and McIntyre’s defense is five feet from him. Then is Jenkins the one to get the ball? Yet McIntyre is closer to the net, so perhaps he deserves the ball?

“We can’t run Harvard’s Nordic Model here. We cannot use math models right now, we just don’t have the time. I can’t ask my teammates what to do. Do I call a timeout to have coach help me decide?

“You don’t have unlimited timeouts though, and besides I’m also the coach, so we have an existential two-body problem. I can’t call a timeout just so I can speak to myself. In a multi-verse with a time warp perhaps this would be feasible, but we’re only limited to three dimensions here.

“This is the conundrum, let’s call it Ashley’s Conundrum. A player cannot call on the coach for help, when the coach is herself. So I’m dribbling, I’m dribbling. My passing options are only finite, they are by no means infinite.

“I’m checking the clock. Tick-tock, tick-tock. I take a mental note of the time. This could be important later, but now we plow forward, we’re staying in the moment. Do I have enough time to succeed in my mission to pass the ball?

“I’m dribbling, I’m dribbling. I’m taking mental notes of the entire defensive alignment. I compare this with similar notes of my offensive alignment. Who do I pass the basketball to who can exploit weaknesses in their defense? Where are there holes in their stratagems? What models do I have that can be quickly deployed as counter-defensives?

“I’m dribbling, I’m dribbling. I use one hand while I dribble, two handed-dribbling is a rules violation. I know you’re all new to my game insight, so I’m giving you every tactical advantage — employ one-handed dribbling, at all times.

“And don’t you dare pull any Harlem Globetrotter nonsense. The alumni paid a pretty penny to watch you win ball games, not to watch you showboat...”

Ashley Judd will be facing off against Harvey “The Pig” Weinstein. Weinstein is up on charges because he short-circuited Ashley’s acting career. Weinstein’s M.O. is that he never romances women, he uses his wealth, power, and prestige to coerce sex out of them. If he fails, he goes about ruining the actress’ career, just as he did to Ashley.

Weinstein chose a woman named Donna Rotunno as his attorney, solely because, nominally as a woman, she is supposed to represent Weinstein’s unbiased appreciation for the opposite gender.

This brings to mind Rachel Mitchell, who was the one who tried to take down Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. Dr. Ford testified against the lecherous pretender to the Supreme Court, Brett Kavanaugh. Mitchell was a Republican lackey and toady, who was just as disloyal to her own gender as is Rotunno.

Like Mitchell, Rotunno’s greatest concern was not acting ethically. Both the Kavanaugh and Weinstein lawyers didn’t, and don’t, have any problem betraying their gender. Money means everything, morality really doesn’t figure much with either of them.

Rotunno’s life work is springing men from jail sentences for sex crimes (or is the polite term, defending?) Rotunno must have sold her soul to Satan, she must have a vendetta against women who have been victimized, or she feels women who are raped should learn to just enjoy it.

Weinstein exploits any women he’s ever been in contact with, including his wife, and his lawyer is no exception. Rotunno’s profession obviously exploits her for her gender, even for her case work not involving Weinstein.

The defense team wants to portray Weinstein as being capable of calmly and chastely interacting with a woman in a courtroom. They need to have the jury see Weinstein whispering in her ear without signs of duress, or reaching for his groin.

Weinstein has been seen limping around the courthouse, but who would buy into this being any real disability? Faking illness to avoid jail time was a tactic of Casa Nostra Capo, Vincent Gigante. Would anyone put a faux sympathy appeal beyond Weinstein, especially since he’s been seen of late hobnobbing at posh night clubs?

Faking frailty could easily prejudice a jury towards leniency of Weinstein, so if Weinstein cannot walk, sit him down in a wheelchair, or lash him to a walker, where he belongs. And if he’s having a heart attack, put him in a hospital for a day or two, until he snaps out of it...

This is the holiday season which means just one thing, Ashley Judd Public Service Announcements for Baby Jesus. Here is one of her best:

Ashley in anger: “Kent, you can’t have it both ways, not on my watch.”

Then a man in a beret: “And cut!”

A stagehand calls out to Ashley: “Great work, Ms. Judd!”

Ashley, walking towards the camera: “I know it was, but did you also know that Baby Jesus is under attack by the homo. That’s right, the homo is attacking our pure and Holy house of worship, be it Methodist — where I call home — Baptist, Fundamentalist, or Pentacostal. Dang, even the Catholics are getting hit hard by the homo.

“That’s right, the queer are everywhere. The only way to save your house of worship from the homo is by eradicating them via your tax-exempt donations. We have very effective, political action committees in place that work at blocking the homo from all civil rights, they just need your contributions.

[Last Easter, Ashley was still espousing her affiliation for the Methodist Church, another Christian, hate-group. She may have changed her tune, I cannot say for certain. This is an admittedly, very weak attempt to keep her on the straight and narrow (no pun intended)...]

Being Mexicano, the racist would think that Salma hails from domestics and farm laborers, but this is the furthest from the truth. Both of her parents are very prosperous and successful. Her Dad owns an industrial-equipment firm, one who ran for mayor of Coatzacoalcos, and her mother is a talent agent, and opera singer.

Ms. Hayek regularly tops most sexy lists. Salma is unusually voluptuous, yet bizarrely, she is still insecure about her figure. From just this one example, and given Salma’s body, we can extrapolate that every woman is insecure about their looks.

Salma earned an Oscar nomination for Frida, the biopic of Mexican painter, Frida Kahlo. Ashley Judd had a cameo in this film, where she did a very sexy, lesbian tango with Salma.

Salma is accomplished outside of just acting. She has produced movies, and been a spokeswoman for charitable causes, especially ones ending violence against women.

Salma advocates breastfeeding infants, and once on a humanitarian mission fed a toddler whose mother could not produce milk. Unfortunately, there aren’t any photos of her nursing.

Her husband, François-Henri Pinault, gave $113 million to restore the Notre Dame Cathedral. Whew! We were hoping the Pinaults wouldn’t give that kind of cash to feed the poor. Houses of worship mean so much more than alleviating poverty.

Marrying a billionaire is probably every girl’s dream come true, but why is Salma mixing tequila drinks on Youtube?

(A still from 2008’s Australia; Nikky as an aristocrat moving 2,000 head of cattle. The draw here is the outback, and that expressive face of hers. Her look of concern is because a bull and two calves strayed far, far, away from the herd. Hint, hint...)

Given the Coronavirus vacation, Nikky and me are renegotiating all her contracts. She will no longer be forced to bleach her mane blonde. Here forward, she will always be a redhead. An announcement for the press will follow. Nikky isn’t called Ginger Tabby for nothing...

As part of a Vogue piece, Ms. Kidman videotaped an Instagram profile of her answering questions. At first listen, she seemed to sound arrogant. But when I listened to it a second time, I realized that she has a wide breadth of experience in film, and that the apparent conceit was really just a product of a very long, accomplished, and successful, career in Hollywood...

Nikky keeps an airplane cabin mock-up in her living room just for kicks. If she could, she’d always be flying the friendly skies. Ms. Kidman had dreams of staying a stewardess, now long shattered by accepting Hollywood movie offers.

That’s right, she went to flight school where their mantra remains: “Coffee, tea, or me?... Thank you. I’ll be right back with your snacks.” If she shaked her booty, she would be the snack, and invited to some wealthy man’s hotel room for liberated girl experiences that later appeared in Eyes Wide Shut.

All that remains of these happier times, is the wide body, cross-sectional cabin of a McDonnell-Douglas DC-10 she keeps in the back of her living room. It was given to her as a gift from her fellow stewardesses. As Nikky often says: “I’m Nikky, fly me to anywhere on earth. I’m ready to please you, and satisfy your every traveling need...”

Nikky even confided to me that if there was trouble on set, she would run home to sit in her airplane cabin. She sits and thinks about the olden days when life was so much simpler, and stewardesses wore short skirts instead of trousers...

Nikky looks better recently than she’s been. She looks twenty years younger than other recent photos. I spoke with her publicist, and she said that three-hour long, Pilates sessions with her master mentor, Dylan MacGyver, is the main reason.

Also, she cut back on coffee, and afternoon shots of tequila, as well as no longer doing peyote with her buds from the “Nashville enlightenment scene”.

The “Nashvilles” as they are more popularly known, eschew brewed buzzes for mind blowing cacti remedies in efforts to forget the cares of the day, and anything else, permanently...

All the movie studios keep this quiet, but Nikky is seven-foot-tall. In every role she’s ever been in, she plays opposite leading men on stilts.

She was considering the WNBA, the Women’s National Basketball Association, but she got the lead in Bush Christmas (1983) (in the Land of Oz, the Bush means the Australian Outback, not the un-Christian term).

If she ever finds herself back in the romance market, or on the auction block as a super-hot property, I’ll take her regardless of her gigantism. Just find me an extra pair of stilts, and we’re good to go.

(Don’t believe the rumors that Nikky’s actually 5' 11" tall, and not 7' 0", but Karlie Kloss is 6' 1½")...

Nikky does seem to be unusually warm and affectionate but also a bit naive, especially regarding her ex, Tom Cruise, and Scientology...

Following the intergalactic invasion, we have this from the Aussie-sector slave auction:

“Nikky Kidman: nice look, nice spirit, I open bidding at 5 million Krupets. She will do windows without any backtalk...”

Nicole Kidman appeared at the Critics Choice Awards. Hmm, was I wrong all along about Ms. Kidman? I mean she wasn’t goofy, she was clear-eyed, and as sharp as a tack. If she did love the sauce, she doesn’t love it anymore. The best keeps getting better.

Nicole Kidman just flew into LAX for the Golden Globes. Yet there is very sad news to report: Nicole’s home in the Aussie countryside was reduced to ashes, along with all the precious memories that she and her husband have shared, and there have been at least one or two of them.

There are times, Nikky, when you just need to say: “Let it burn.” (Before anyone sends me any hate email, or firebombs my house, please read below...)

At a 2020, New Year’s Eve show, Keith called his wife, “Baby girl...” Is this meant to be affectionate, or condescending? It sounds like a put down to me, a huge one, and he unloaded it just before she was going to speak.

If anyone believes that celebrity is a ticket to permanent bliss, they are so sadly mistaken. The famous have much more tools like money, litigation, and a powerful, bully pulpit, to go at one another...

Nicole was the weakest in the cast of the Stepford Wives. She looked lost. She’s not a comic actress or one known for melodrama. She seems to gravitate toward serious roles.

The dialog for her character may not have been fully crystallized. She may have been dealing with personal trauma — her moppets went Scientology (I don’t care at all for the cult of Scientology, just as I don’t for the human rights-repressing cult of Catholicism).

I don’t remember Nicole ever playing a character part or the sidekick, only the leading lady. Nicole was phenomenal in Eyes Wide Shut and Moulin Rouge, but not here.

(Although those who cannot act, critique acting...)

Nicole has a Christmas card photo for Instagram of her and her husband. Nikky wears a fedora raked downward that might befit a cannabis distributor, while her husband wears a baseball cap that would be seen on a farm equipment salesman. Nikky, when you tire of Mr. John Deere, look me up. I’m in the Yellow Pages under “Other Letter — Global Blogger”...

Besides Nicole not joining Tom on the dark side with his divisive Scientology, there’s a second reason why they divorced. Nicole is five-foot-eleven-inches and Tom is five-foot-three-inches tall (with heels). Paparazzi would burst out laughing anytime they stepped out onto the red carpet. It can take any kind to make a marriage.

Scientology leadership was furious that prospective, dues-paying recruits would see Cruise’s wife with much more stature than Tom did. Having Tom wear stilts was ineffective as he feared heights (Scientology Svengali, L. Ron Hubbard, didn’t figure out how to defuse this particular fear).

A few years of the height taunting, the humiliation, and the bad press, proved to be more than the Kidmans could handle, so they had to call it quits, and file for a divorce...

Most are well aware of perhaps the most bitter rivalry in all of Hollywood, including the one between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford. This is, of course, the endless tit-for-tat between Nicole Kidman and Naomi Watts. Both have longstanding restraining orders against one another. If you even say the word, “Naomi,” to Nikky she will practically hit the ceiling in fright, the hatred is this intense.

Ages ago, the two Aussies were the best of friends. In fact, they went to the same theatrically-oriented, North Sydney Girls High School, where a gentle rivalry turned into the most heated of feuds. It got so bad once, that Nicole and Naomi were pulled out of their classes for a day’s worth of detention, because of unnecessary hair-pulling, spitting, and teacher-unapproved cat fighting (things are a bit different in the land down-under).

There has been nothing but bad vibes between them since, going as far back as Mulholland Drive, when Nikky auditioned for innocent, Hollywood newcomer, Betty, but Naomi walked off with the role.

There was a scene that Naomi performed for director, David Lynch, a scene that Nikky felt was just too sexual. Nicole is a firm believer in chastity just like her savior, Baby Jesus, demands of her. Nikky told Lynch that instead of the self-pleasuring scene, the Betty character should play tennis against a cement wall, that this achieved the same effect, and hid all uncomfortable, shameful, eroticism.

Lynch could not be convinced, and the role went to Naomi. Once this casting die was cast, they never spoke a word to each other again...

The Nikky faithful are mounting a campaign to have her mane return to ginger, instead of blonde. The problem is that the characters are written as blondes, or dirty blondes, so Nicole must dye her hair yellow over and over.

Many of us believe this is just plain wrong, so we are asking Ms. Kidman and her agent to negotiate a ginger contract rider to allow her to grow in her natural, flaming, red-hot, hair color.

Why play yet another, air head blond, when she can play a fiery, agile and dynamic, think-for-herself, redhead? Many more will be missing her next blockbuster in protest, and some will be carrying picket signs to the tune of: “Bring Back our Ginger Babe!...” Please join us, and make a difference!

I’m hardly one to trash the husband of any of these gorgeous, Hollywood women, but Jenny C. married down. Just saying, no offense. These husbands all understand, because they’re jealous of me, and my primacy as a blogger.

They all know that I can beat them inside on the paint, then dish outside for the tray, or block shots from downtown. I’m just too much competition for them, so they’ve learned to respect me for this.

Ashley Judd knows this is the god’s honest truth, I’ve played pickup games with her in Nashville, games where she doesn’t even show up, in more ways than one...

For her supporting role as Alicia Nash in Ron Howard’s A Beautiful Mind, Jennifer Connelly received an Academy Award, a Golden Globe Award and a BAFTA Award. Besides her Oscar-winning performance, she’s known for He’s just not that into You, she was the best part of Rocketeer — lighting up the screen, and stealing every scene, she was that good in this — and in 2014, she co-starred with Russell Crowe again in the Biblical saga Noah.

The problem with Rocketeer though, was that it had all this stuff about rockets, when it should have just been about Jenny C smiling, and making conversation with everyone. They hardly know how to create fine, engrossing cinema anymore.

Ms. Connelly — along with her trademark, playful, coy, knowing, or devilish half-smile, as well as her brunette hair and green eyes, her buxom figure, and her deep, sultry voice — has appeared in 41 films. In 2005, Amnesty International named Ms. Connelly an Ambassador for Human Rights Education. She has been a Revlon cosmetics cover model, and in addition, was a child model. Periodicals such as Time, Vanity Fair, Esquire, as well as the Los Angeles Times have all included her on their lists of the world’s most beautiful women.

In Career Opportunities, Jennifer portrays an unusually intuitive, young woman, who is beset with issues at home, and doesn’t quite know what to do with her life, until she is trapped overnight with a janitor at a department store. One can easily see her overwhelming sex appeal and femininity in yet another, understated, never-recognized, and grossly under-rated performance. It is just a treat to watch her in this film, and this is so early in her career.

I would have to think she did all her own roller-skating in this clip, partly because it would have to be so difficult to find that voluptuous of a body double for Jennifer, and partly because in the shots where it is obviously her doing the skating, she is doing it very well.

Ms. Connelly studied English at Yale University, transferring to Stanford, and completing her degree in Drama there. Not many know this, but growing up in the Catskills of Upstate New York, Jennifer was nick-named “The Mountain Cat.”

If you looked at the pinups of earlier generations such as Betty Grable, and even Rita Hayworth, Ms. Graham still stays on top. Heather is one, unusually good-looking woman. Plus she’s whip-smart, if you know what I mean...

If Heather was your girlfriend, if this big league arbiter of cool was yours as well, you could sit opposite her at supper, and stare at her the entire meal. Until she snaps her fingers and says, “Not another one into drugs!”

I caught Committed, more great work of Heather’s on Hoopla, the for-free library service. I have difficulty understanding why Heather has never been considered for the top Hollywood awards. She has the chops, she does work where she is entirely convincing and compelling, as well as carrying the film.

Although Heather does not seem to get offered the movies that lend themselves to winning Oscars. She may have a problem with being stereotyped as a bimbo. She has done many roles that had a sexual component, has this worked against her? Hollywood is known to be hedonistic, and not prudish, so one would think that performing sexual roles would work in her favor.

Committed was produced by Harvey Weinstein, before his complete fall from grace, and when he had the Midas touch. Gwynnie’s Shakespeare in Love was also a Weinstein production. Before he was revealed to be such a sleazy SOB — there are actresses in Hollywood who would kill him if they could — if you were in one of his films, you made it.

And Heather made it in the year 2000, and before, and since, but looked over for every award the entire time. Which is all sad, but we still have Ms. Graham’s cinematic catalog to enjoy...

Heather was in an excellent movie that I would bet not many people have ever seen. It is called, Miss Conception, and it’s about a woman whose biological clock is running out of time.

Both Ms. Graham and her supporting cast all gave excellent performances. Who knew Heather could give a Gwynnie Paltrow-caliber British accent, not to mention her GP-worthy performance?

The movie is not hard-core drama, meaning there’s no squirm-in-your-seat Tarantino carnage, but this doesn’t mean it isn’t both poignant and enjoyable.

The Hoopla website, which is available with most library cards, has the movie for free. (Unfortunately, the Opera browser won’t work with it, you’ll need Firefox, or equivalent.)

As an actress nearing fifty-years-of-age, Heather Graham knows her days being gainfully employed are numbered. So she brainstormed with Macy’s, and will now be putting out a line of winter clothing to be called Heather’s Wisconsin Winter Ware. The line will include psychedelic, pink and tangerine, scarves, and paisley gloves, in honor of her tenure as Austin Power’s Felicity Shagwell.

(Heather’s Wisconsin Winter Ware is named after Heather’s native Wisconsin, where she won Milwaukee Igloo Queen, three-years running. She would have won a fourth year, but she found work in Tinsel Town. Also stopping a four-peat was controversy over Igloo Queen term limits, which would have likely led to her disqualification for a fourth year.)

Ms. Graham is also involved in a charity getting the Cambodian children to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. The genius solution: Have Heather’s Cambodian kids make Heather’s Wisconsin Winter Ware. There initially were concerns about their psychosocial development after working eighty-hour weeks in the Heather Graham Sweatshops.

Yet Heather and her management team agreed that the work experience gained far outweighed any downside from unlit, fire-hazard, sweatshops. Expect a February launch to Heather’s Wisconsin Winter Ware.

Here’s a quote from a recent two-part, 60 Minutes interview, with Heather Graham:

I’ve been waiting forever until my career waned to get ’em done. I needed big boobs professionally. Now that they’re smaller, I get to play character roles, and work on my gymnast routines.

Big boobs are for leading ladies, smaller ones are for quirky, nutty, character roles. The acting is more challenging for smaller boobs’ parts.

I used to make up for deficiencies in my method acting by jiggling my boobs. Now, it’s just me and the camera. I’m a much better actress after I had them reduced...

Heather went on a Facebook - Celebrity Edition date with some anonymous Hollywood type. If she does marry him, as widely expected, I will have to decide if she stays with the Pantheon or gets tossed asunder.

At 48, Heather is reaching the end of her love life longevity, and her desirability as a woman. So she’ll be clawing onto this “guy” for dear life, desperate for a wedding ring, even one with a very puny, speck of a diamond. Heather will at last fulfilled her life’s ambition as a trophy wife. Well, let’s not get rude.

She didn’t want to be a trophy wife her entire life, she did have hopes and dreams before her 45th birthday, but no more. She was seen leaving the restaurant, a midtown McDonalds, trying to piggyback on the “guy’s” back, in an obvious sexual overture.

If I do drop her from the Pantheon, I will most likely get Certified™ Registered™ letters from both her and her publicist, begging for re-inclusion, and including a sizeable bribe. The letters get put in the circular file for compost, although I do pocket the lettuce.

(As a one-time postal courier, Heather is one of the very few people on earth who know what a Certified™ and/or Registered™ letter actually is. Heather gave up the great outdoors and friendly people on her route, for domestication, endless primping, and serving her “man,” but, oh, her designer gown budget is the stuff of legend...)

How many times has a Heather Graham, movie character been named “Candy”? If you guessed “23,” you’re going to Disneyland!!!

Is there any woman more feared in Hollywood, than Heather Graham? I mean, just look at her. Talk about intimidating great looks. Harvey Weinstein was scared of her, and not a girl has ever stood in that pig’s way before. She must have to reject more men in a single day, than most women do in their entire lives. Her modus operandi becomes: take no prisoners.

When Heather is forced to unleash Heather-apolcalypse, there is nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. She is an esteemed actress and a businesswoman, and if you cannot produce credentials that you are worthy of her time, move it along. Ms. Graham is most likely a real sweetheart, but she never returns my calls, so I can’t get a good fix on the real Heather...

Heather and me were heading out for another road trip, because I wanted to get to know the Cheeseheads for which her region is so well known. See, Heather is from Wisconsin, the Dairy State, and they eat more cheese than anyone else in America (only the Swiss eat more cheese on earth). To stock up on supplies, we stopped at Kwik Trip.

What most surprised me about this convenience store, is that Kwik Trip sells milk by the bag, honest, they do. Not only that, the Kwik Trip chain has their own dairy, they have their own dairy cows. On Long Island, I couldn’t verify at press time, but I’m almost certain that our convenience stores, 7-11, and even Dairy Barn, do not have their own cows.

Kwik Trip will also cook to order off of a small menu. Now, I don’t have to check that one out. There isn’t a single convenience store in the entire Northeastern United States that will cook to order anything. You need to go home, and fire up your George Foreman Grill, or turn up your hot plate...

As many may know, Heather’s big break was from her role as Brandi aka Roller Girl in Boogie Nights. Heather has said that since then she no longer had to audition for parts, she would just be offered them, and for big movies.

According to IMDBPro, Gwynnie Paltrow was offered the role for Roller Girl, but turned it down. That would have been the all-time miscast...

Heather Graham is well-known in keeping her private life private, and away from prying eyes. But get this, she will be releasing a tell-all autobiography this Fall. The finished manuscript is one page long, and includes the time she skinned her knee in gym class. At least her treatment was somewhat forthcoming about her past. A ghostwriter hopes to flesh it out into four-hundred-pages.

I, for one, am glad she’s coming clean on dishing about private details about her life. I have paid her way with movie tickets — we all have — and it’s time for pay back. I am not an unreasonable man, so I know she needs to make more of an effort being explicit about her past, including all those physical relationships with girls.

Heather, if you’re out there, don’t tell me this is private, because you traded your privacy for fame. Check the fine print on that Faustian bargain you signed thirty years ago. You surrendered all rights to your sexy past for others enjoyment...

If you follow Heather Graham’s Instagram, and Ashley Judd or Gwyneth Paltrow’s ones as well, you’ll notice that on Ashley and Gwynnie’s pages the trolls are there, out in full force, and out for blood. Yet Heather’s social media feed is fairly civilized.

The reason is that Heather doesn’t stir up much controversy. She mostly talks about rice cakes and sunscreen, whereas Ashley has extolled her love of tax-cheat Bono, and Gwynnie pontificates over pelvic eggs as a panacea for the blues, and whose discussion even embarasses her mom, Blythe.

It is always clear where Ashley and Gwynnie are on the New Age or political spectrum, which makes them the targets of trolls. Yet we only know of Heather’s discretion, and her love of those slimming rice cakes.

To make them all feel free to express their opinions without retaliation, the real solution is to promote their own web sites which they have already built. Ashley already has AshleyJudd.com, and Gwyneth has GwynethPaltrow.com. They devote far more time to the social media platforms than their eponymous web sites, even though the former is where they get all the abuse.

Or they could be as tough as nails, and capable of withstanding any abuse thrown their way. Yet, if you have home field advantage on your own web site, with a much more devoted readership, and without casual or hurtful readers, the discourse will remain that much more civil. Surprisingly, however, Ashley and Gwynnie currently do not have their own forums.

What’s more, a private web site would have a much tighter rein on membership with a significantly more elaborate, and reviewable, member profiles, which can readily cull away trolls. In Facebook, you’ll only learn that whomever is trolling you belongs to the National Socialist Party, their favorite public figure is Adolf Hitler, and their true passion is assault rifles. There isn’t any reason why they are visiting you other than they are desperate to cause you as much trouble as they can...

Winter is approaching fast in the northern Midwest. Heather has begun chopping wood, and tuning her Skidoo to make sure it’s ready for the weekly blizzards. She is making sure her lake fishing cabin is structurally sound, adding caulk where necessary.

Heather is also checking her fishing tackle to make sure the knots are secure, because this may be the year she catches the record crappie, which in Northern Wisconsin is over ninety pounds (a record she owned just eight years ago)...

Heather just brought her fishing hutch off of Lake Oshbegosh. Yeah, if it’s not ashore by late May, it goes to the bottom of the lake. Into Spring, car traffic is not allowed on the lake any longer. Heather is saddened when winter ends, longing for the return of Arctic temps, so she can drag her beloved fishing igloo out onto the lake again, and catch yet more crappies.

Heather has her Peterbilt pick-up truck to facilitate moving the hutch back and forth for her “hobby.” It’s 8-cylinders on a 10-liter, overhead cam power plant. She has drag raced at Milwaukee Nationals. When the ice-fishing isn’t any good up North, she trailers it down to Daytona for more fun, her Peterbilt is that fast and competitive.

If you ever get the chance, catch Heather on the NASCAR Channel leaving rubber in fourth gear, in her 250 MPH-plus souped-up pick-up, funny-car. Everyone knew she was fast, and wastes no time, but 250 MPH-plus fast?

Heather has often said that racing “is all in the wrist, I concentrate on my wrists out on the track.” When a newbie asked about her: “accelerating engine fatigue when racing.” She only offered this: “I was grinding gears before the day you were born, punk. Eat my fireproof suit...”

Heather Graham varies a great deal in the quality of her screen work. Some of it is really top-notch, and some of it is a paycheck. I blame the writing. If an actress is given lines to read that aren’t credible, or compelling, Meryl Streep couldn’t pull off making that part convincing.

Then, because of prior weak scripts, an actress is relegated to more, very weak scripts. If she is in this “quicksand” I don’t see how she can dig herself out of it, and develop professionally...

It is winter. This means just one thing to Wisconsin born and bred, Heather Graham, and that’s returning home for ice fishing. This is the time of year that Heather forgets the inanities and ultra-seriousness of Hollywood, puts on her hip waders, and heads out on her Ski-doo for a day in her ice fishing hut on Lake Oshbegosh.

(Heather has a 2007 Grand Touring Ski-doo. Everyone she’s ever known has owned a ski-mobile. She does all the work on hers — she has a lift in her garage — much to the amazement of her friends on the lake. Heather has even taken it across frozen Lake Superior to Northern Ontario for lodging and dancing with First Settlers.)

The temperatures are typically 30° below zero, but Heather just loves the peace and quiet communing with nature out on the Lake. All her girlfriends are into the sport, and they help net the tuna-size crappies that she often catches.

After they bring in their haul — Heather’s are always biggest — they take turns where they hold a big fish dinner. Heather’s sisterhood of the ice fisher women date back to when she was just seven years old.

Heather holds the record for crappies, not only on Lake Oshbegosh, but for the entire State of Wisconsin. Crappies are typically panfish, and eight inches long, but somehow the biggest ones from up and down the entire Mississippi River all end up on the end of Heather’s fishing line. She must have the magic touch.

So next you see her playing her typical vixen or cheerleading coach, just imagine her grinning and holding up a trophy-winning, eighty pound crappie for the cameras. Smile, Heather!...

Ms. Thurman was in a horrific auto crash over a dozen years ago, mostly because she was prodded into it by her director, Quentin Tarantino. While still dealing today with the joint injuries from that crash, she puts the blame squarely on Harvey Weinstein for covering it all up. Weinstein is by no means a sympathetic figure to anyone anywhere, but he cannot be blamed for everything wrong in cross-gender relationships.

The reason why Uma will not blame Tarantino for this is simple — or to me, it’s simple — she needs the work, and she likes or loves him. Her entire career is associated with Tarantino, if she is looking for continued franchise opportunities, in say, Kill Bill Volume 8, she cannot be badmouthing Tarantino, because he is her meal ticket. I am not one hundred percent certain I am right about this, but it all adds up in my estimation...

Ms. Thurman will be appearing on Broadway in The Parisian Woman. This is not a dinky, pitiful off-Broadway production, mind you, or even dinkier, and more pitiful, off-off-Broadway. This is the Great White Way.

Bear with me, I’m Drama Desk for the New York Times, I only speak the well-honed truth, even about which I know surprisingly little. My colleague at the Timesjust did an article on her, which congratulated her staying power having been in Hollywood for more than five years (but I’d say she’s been gracing our screens for closer to thirty).

Anyhow, after the dust settled, and all the readers vent their unfounded hostilities they harbored towards Uma in the Comments Section of the piece, it is on to me, yours truly, with the only opinion that truly matters, my own.

My concern with Uma is tempered by her being such a towering presence on the silver screen, where her profoundly sensitive portrayals are bigger and more majestic than life itself. Instead, I wonder if I have ever seen her happy, near-tearful grin — not even once. (I’ve seen Ashley Judd tearfully grinning, and Gwynnie, too — both of these joyous divorcées look like they’re having a better time of stuff.)

Uma sure seems to me to be one introspective chick, when she smiles, is that often a wistful smile, or am I just being hypercritical? True, Uma has spent much of her career working with Quentin Tarantino, and we all know what light-hearted romps he makes about forgiveness, with each production having its own incredible arsenal of blood-seeking, revenge weaponry.

If I cast her in any of my nascent productions, I will be sure that she grins, and not just once, a few times, several times even. Until I see any evidence of grinning, she will never appear in any of my screenwriting masterworks. Her photos on the Internet, at least, are not of a beaming woman enjoying life to its fullest...

Uma Thurman’s Pulp Fiction portrayal of a moll won her an Oscar nomination. At the same time, the film established her as the muse of Quentin Tarantino, the film’s famous director now best known for relying on incredible visceral sequences. Uma went on to receive Golden Globe nominations for that cinema classic, then for Kill Bill Volume I and Kill Bill Volume II, and took home the Globe for Hysterical Blindness.

The latter is the story of how a few women in 1980’s New Jersey go looking for love in the bar scene, and ultimately find that their friendship is what truly matters most. In the Kill Bill series, Uma plays Beatrix Kiddo, a woman introduced as a bride covered in blood, who is later out for revenge against the killer of her ex-lover. Ms. Thurman spent three months learning martial arts for the part.

In a 2003 Time magazine piece, Tarantino professed his admiration for his favorite actress, putting her right “up there with Garbo and Dietrich in goddess territory.” To date, U, as she is often called, has 51 acting film credits to her name.

Partly because of Uma’s obvious great looks, and partly because of her commanding stage presence — being a five-foot-eleven glamazon cannot hurt — Lancôme and Louis Vuitton retained this part-Swede’s services as a spokeswoman. The Government of France has also knighted her for her achievements in the Arts and Literature.

Uma grew up in Boston, although she did spend a good deal of time in India. Her father, Robert Thurman, is an Ivy League, Buddhist academic who brought the family to the Himalayas on occasion. The Dalai Lama was a very good friend of her Dad, and Mr. Thurman once brought the religious leader home. Nena von Schlebrügge, Uma’s Mom, was briefly married to Timothy Leary, the one-time, Sixties psychedelics pioneer. ‘Uma’ is an alternate name of a Hindu goddess, and it means ‘light.’

Has anyone ever seen Amy Adams when she wasn’t smiling? As far as anyone knows, Amy is the happiest actress in Hollywood...

Amy Adams is firmly in the Charlize Theron camp of extreme beauty. Amy has such joy, but she’s married as the day is long, so we avoid her discussion...

It has often been said that a man who criticizes a woman’s weight has a death wish. Yet I am concerned — frankly, I am much more than concerned — about a Pantheon actress. Amy looks significantly heavier than she has in the past. Maybe she is only hormonal, but if you see a recent photo, you would doubt this. Did her marriage tank, did her kid have to take remedial French (who hasn’t been there?)

Please, if you live in Amy’s neighborhood, and can assist her: walk her dog, get her car washed, re-shingle her roof, read lines opposite her for her latest, referee fights with her significant others, or make her a nutritious breakfast, please do so. I have done my part in alerting the Universe (and so am now a target for all of Hollywood).

Now it is up to you, Amy’s friends, family, and neighbors, to pick up the slack, and get Amy back in fine fettle. For key roles, Hollywood actresses have been known to lose sixty pounds in two weeks, but still, starvation diets leave stretch marks, and Amy, we don’t need you looking like a prune...

Amy is not a natural redhead, she is actually a blonde. The same goes for Emma Stone. Tragically, and with no sense of remorse, both have been pulling the wool over our eyes for years, make that decades. They whisper Hollywood has no soul, that it’s all fake, well, now we know the rumors are all true. Virginia, there is no Santa Claus, okay?

Amy said that once her ’do went ginger, she started getting all the feisty, quirky, fun roles. When she was a blonde, she got roles playing stuck-up bimbos. By the way, if you read about a hair color fraud of which most are unaware, or better, notice one yourself; please drop us a line at the Other Letter Tip Line...

If Charlize was your girlfriend, you”d lose all your friends out of jealousy that you’re going out with a gorgeous, Oscar winner, a real superstar.

Charli is our film producer with the most titles. Well, except for maybe Reese Witherspoon, but Charli has traveled to distant galaxies (and returned intact), whereas Ms. Witherspoon likely hasn’t left terra firma.

Of the entire lot on this Pantheon page,
the one I have the most respect for is Charlize Theron. (Or Charli — pronounced Shar-lee — to those closest to her. Her best buds also know her as “Dimples.”) She isn’t entangled in Baby Jesus, or alien, matrimonial scenes. She’s got it all together, and from every outward appearance she is an unusually pleasant woman.

This promotional still is from 2017’s sci-fi, Star Trek takeoff, The Orville. The only better-looking women are not found in our galaxy. Admittedly, cleavage is generally not seen on an intergalactic star-cruiser, as Charli sports here...

Charlize Theron will not be in the next Mad Max sequel. In her stead, as Imperator Furiosa, will be the fourteen-year-younger, Emma Stone. To Hollywood veterans, this is a bit of a surprise selection, because Emma has been typecast as a super-sensitive, socially-awkward, red-headed beauty.

We shall see if bankable Ms. Stone can pull this one off. There hasn’t been any word yet about whether or not she’ll have to shave her head as Charli did. Ms. Theron blessed the new Infurioso by saying: “Yeah, whatever, but can she take a punch? Hmm?...”

The question then becomes, if she is so petrified of the invisible, why not bring her pathology to the next level, and sport a hazmat suit?

I will be auctioning off all my Charlize Theron action figurines, because, well, she’s not quite the action hero anymore. On the silver screen, she has played secret agents, bank robbers, and even a mass murderer. Yet, who would ever believe her in these roles when she needs gloves to steady her nerves enough for a grocery trip?

When you’ve walked the Pantheon beat as long as I have, very few live up to the not-so-lofty expectations that at absolute minimum, we fans expect.

Charlize, your next role should be opposite Oscar Madison in any Odd Couple remake. You would be the female, germaphobe, Felix Unger. Charli, I know that this is strong medicine, but I said all this without using the w-word. Okay, you forced my hand. Charlize Theron is a wussy...

Charli was seen at the SAG awards trying to chat up Quentin Tarantino. You’re thinking: Doesn’t she have more class than to join a maker of violent exploitation flicks? His pulp fiction is not a parody of pulp fiction, they are pulp fiction in and of themselves.

Here’s the low-down. Charli is 43 years old, and past 40 in Hollywood means that she is suddenly invisible. These days, she is hustling work from anyone with a 35 millimeter camera.

Charli could have been Manson’s sidekick in Once upon a Time... In Blood-red Hollywood. She could have been Eva Braun, Hitler’s wife, in Glorious Bad Guys, if it meant she could stand before the camera when Tarantino shouted, “Action!”

In the final analysis, if Charli cannot find work any longer, then all she has left to do every day for the rest of her life is dust the furniture in her house (her food is all part of a daily, rotating, take-out plan).

Charli, now that you’ve been pushed out of Hollywood because Bombshell bombed, I have an excellent employment idea. Apply to be a Burger King day manager.

Don’t do the night shift even though you’ll earn a pay differential. Night shift is extra cash, but are you ready to say goodbye to your children forever? Because you’ll never see them again.

Whoppers are discounted as an employee perk. Charli is now very interested. I kid you not, you get a third off on your whopper meal. I know, unbelievable. Welcome to America, Charli. There’ll be a new spring to your step. Mm, whoppers, mm. You can even become a BK greeter...

Charli couldn’t resist this good thing, and was an immediate BK hire starting in the vaunted greeter position. We caught up with Charli donning the maroon and gold uniform, including cap:

“I’ve had the fries today and the King is making quite the scrum-delicious batches back there. The deep fryer has been piping hot since 11AM. I should mention that from two to four PM, fries will be 99¢ not $1.09. That’s twenty percent off, and I’m talking all week, but please, only from two to four PM.

“Enjoy them, folks. In times like these, everyone could use BK fries, and why not double down with the whopper. Please, be my guest, sir. All menu items are value-meal priced.

“Yes, ma’am, you can have it your way. This is Burger King, not satanic McDonald’s. Yes, we do accept twenty dollar bills, but we request the order be more than ten dollars. Sir? Why not complete your order with a milkshake? Hmm?

“Yes, ma’am, the napkins are complementary. Take three because the whopper is that juicy. Enjoy your burgers, okay? Have you tried the catsup? It makes for quite the condiment. And please cap off today’s meal with a twisty freeze, now in four flavors, including lime, peanut butter, and red...”

Charli is crestfallen. Her latest epic, Bombshell, didn’t do as well as expected at the box office. Because of Hollywood’s infamous one strike and you’re out policy, she’s in early talks to teach Intro to Cinema Studies at UCLA. This would be the San Bernardino Campus, two hours North of Los Angeles, and two blocks East of the porn studios.

Her first lesson plan includes which foods to eat to gain thirty pounds like she did for Monster. I understand eating Milky Ways in bulk figure large in a super-large, camera-ready butt. I’m ready for my close-up, Missus Jenkins...

After Charli brushed me off (see below), I did run into her on a JFK to Tokyo non-stop, without layover. I was doing the usual, perfecting the human genome on my laptop, and Charli was rehearsing her spiel to promote her latest, Centurion, Halt!

Anyhow, to make a long story short, I explained to her my reverse-Stockholm axiom. The Stockholm Syndrome occurs when you take on the traits of your kidnappers. Reverse-Stockholm Syndrome is when you do the exact opposite of your tormenters. Your daughter, Jackson, may have this.

Charli looked at me like I just landed on Earth from Mars, but then she said, “You’ve got opening remarks in Berlin at the Global Symposium of Acceptable and Exploitable Gender Roles. I still don’t believe anything you’ve ever said, but my family’s medical team as well as the entire Harvard Medical School, who will all be in attendance, may find this just as amusing as I find you.

“Here, I have a front-row ticket. Scalpers sell these for thousands all along the Ebertplatz. You’ll be sitting next to Sigmund Freud’s granddaughter, Helga Freud. I would come prepared, Other, careers delving in the mental sciences, are won and lost here.”

With that, Charli slept the rest of the flight. After the plane taxied, she hightailed it out of the 767’s cabin, and I haven’t seen or heard her since. I RSVP’d at the Symposium, but they said I was never formally invited. Oh, well...

I’ve been needling Charlize so she’ll promote a male orientation for her daughter, Jackson. Because I am the authority in the field of developmental psychology, my viewpoint is the only one worth hearing. Well, Charli actually wrote me back attempting to trump me with the views of the “friendly” Harvard Gender Reassignment Panel. Here are her remarks:

“Thanks for your scribbles, Other, but the Gender Reassignment Panel came back from Harvard with its findings, and Jackson’s 2.78, with a perfectly acceptable margin of error, so everything’s cool.

“Listen, I’m flying into Zurich, then it’s onto Sydney. Gotta win those awards, and plug those pictures. The moppets are with certified nannies. Let me know if I’m starring in your movie. Toddles.

“Wait, before I leave in my private jet, the Harvard Panel decided that I needed to keep Jackson as far away from males as possible so as to avoid gender contamination. If I ever invite you to my manse, you’ll be required to wear a mask of a non-threatening female. I’ve already chosen Doris Day for you from my mask collection. This would be from her Pillow Talk period, when else?

“Oh, and all athletic sporting events must be female ones. Girls’ field hockey, and cheerleading squads wearing skirts are acceptable — and this is top-level Harvard making the decisions, so we know it’s all good. Other, I’d like to say it’s been real, but it did lack gender nuance...”

I’ll be staying a few weeks in Charlize’s South Africa, so I needed to know what’s good eats. I have to be frank here, the selections were not as varied as they are Stateside, but I’m not saying that they’re any worse.

South Africa does have a prestige collection of dried fruit and nuts, apparently they are produced in great abundance there. The Food Lovers Market looked very good, and I’ll be sure to stop in to the Market for the Asian-spiced pork neck roast.

American tries to be everything to everyone, and satisfy everyone that marketing metrics say needs to be satisfied, with scientifically-measured enticements. The South African approach is much more: “This is what we know that you’ll love...”

Charli won a lifetime achievement award from a major organization. You want me to tell you which one, don’t you? Okay, I’ll look it up, one second, and I shall let you know... She won the Career Achievement Award — at the tender age of forty-four — from the Hollywood Film Awards.

In her usual gracious manner, she gave all thanks to me, whom she studied under at the Institute for Advanced Film Studies. I even get the credit for her riveting performance in Monster.

Remember when she waved the gun in the air, and told everyone that this would get her on the cover of the Rolling Stone? All that “improv” was from yours truly, yet I don’t have the Oscar, Charli does. There isn’t any justice in Hollywood. I won’t begrudge — good work, Charli...

Everyone knows that Charli curses like a sailor. Well, now, it’s effecting the bottom line of her movies. Something needed to be done, so now she has a cussin’ jar in her kitchen with proceeds given to charity.

Any profanity she utters means a Benjamin, a hundred dollar bill, goes from her purse into the tip jar. Because of her donations, her cussin’ jar has financed a sewer district in her native Ruwumba. Way to be, Charli...

Okay, I must say this, and jeopardize the super-fine relationship I have with Charlize Theron. Charlize, sit down — no, not there, here.

Better, okay, I seriously doubt that your son who’s now defined as a daughter is so set on being a girl. Does Jackson want a boyfriend? Is he, err she, effeminate in many ways? Long hair doesn’t count. Kids want to look all rock star.

I remember reading that you had a break-up scene with Sean Penn, and Jackson witnessed this. He was absolutely grieving of the whole situation. I understand that his home environment before you adopted him was also traumatic, and left at least a few scars. Well, will Jackson think so highly of men after this? Yet how many men are present in his life today? Are there any at all?

My point is: Before you buy him the Betty Crocker Little Girl Baking Kit, and indulge him with all kinds of crazy girl stuff (and do you ever have the money to indulge him), watch sports with him. See if he would rather be out on the field, or be a cheerleader on the sidelines. I may be way out of line, and grossly oversimplifying the entire situation, but I think I raise important points.

One more point: Why didn’t you adopt the kid who was Harvard, grade school, early admit? Or take on the kid who can bench three of his classmates? Just put him in your home gym, and let him loose.

You wanted to adopt a kid who needed your love the most? Still, the Mensa moppet, or the NFL prospect, would have been far more cost-effective. When everything is reduced to a financial equation, we’re all happier...

Charlize Theron, Oscar-winner, has made a name for herself as an action hero — of all things. In some quarters, this is great. Charlize is super-hot looking, and we get to see her as a bad-ass.

But as far as I’m concerned, this is a waste of her exceptional talents on blood-and-guts combat. True, she’s past forty, and in Hollywood this means that roles for actresses are far and few between.

They must take whatever is thrown their way, even if it involves butchering a sworn enemy in vengence. There is a scene in one of Tarantino’s movies, I cannot recall which one, where Uma Thurman is a cannibal eating her enemy’s carcass by a bonfire.

Anyhow, this is what I fear of Charli, that she’s in some God-forsaken Tarantino movie chomping on the remains of someone’s forearm. If this can happen to Uma, can’t it happen to Charli? Of course it can, and will, if Charli doesn’t leave the dark side of Hollywood...

Finding Your Roots is a long-running show on PBS (Public Broadcasting System), hosted by Henry Louis Gates Jr. In it, celebrity guests learn everything about their genealogy, even learning some things they probably didn’t want to know.

Charlize Theron was on the show recently where her true racial identity was revealed. Born in South Africa, she’s an African American who’s actually White, or is she?

Mr. Gates ran her DNA against the Mumbabwe tribal databank in Dahomey Kingdom. Mumbabwe 16th Century, papyrus birth certificates were kept in a central depository inside a quonset hut, in the middle of every village. Once the show’s investigators found the depository (beneath hundreds of bibles left behind by frustrated missionaries), it was not a problem at all verifying Charli’s genetic results.

As it turns out, Charlize is both an Oscar-winner, and a Black, albino African. During the ruthless, colonial slave trade, the Chieftain had all the albino men and women of their Black tribe intermingle and mate. This way, Charlize’s direct ancestors would be overlooked as slave prospects because they appeared White.

“That’s right, Charlize, your great, great, great, great grandmother was Lamoyne, but your great, great, great grandmother was Mary Elizabeth. How does it feel to be one hundred percent Black African? — if simply albino Black.”

“I am stunned, I’m a Black person in a White shell?”

“That’s right, you were protected from becoming a slave by having your bloodline made ivory, with albino Blacks.”

“I have to tell my kids this. I adopted two Blacks kids and they always looked at me askance for being White bread. Well, now they won’t have to, I’m one of them, right down to the genetic level...”

Charlize Theron is releasing her new stoner classic: Why Everybody must get Stoned. In it, she plays a wake and bake clerk at a super store of an inconsequential town named Dullesville, one where no one has ever gotten high. Charlize takes every customer into the storage closet and proceeds to blow their minds with the strongest sinsemilla.

Eventually the entire town is toking, including Mayor Numbnuts, Pastor Buford, and Sheriff White-bread, all former owners of Dullesville’s once-thriving whiskey distillery, yet now dreadlock-donning stoners...

By the curtain close, Charli is getting high fives all around for her primo bud and cannabis marketing acumen. Why Everybody must... is headed for a Christmas release under Charlize’s own production company, Daphne and Dubuque, and Hallmark Heart Warmers...

Who caught the Golden Globes? And did you see who the looker among the lookers was? That’s right, our Charli Theron. There is a huge professional problem with her beauty, because any one she plays automatically lacks realism. No one but Charli looks this good. Ms. Theron has been relegated to become an Oscar-winning action hero. She is passed over for any serious dramatic scripts.

Well, I have the solution, Charli. You need to look your age, you need to honor your maturity, you need crows feet, you need lines on your face. Then you will have realism, and roles that adults would appreciate. This is how you get that aging: Live for a month in a bus terminal, or in the woods. Follow this with a three-month cocaine bender. This is what is known as method acting.

That is how you succeed in Hollywood, looks do not matter there, we all know this. To get out of the action hero trap, you must look your age, Charli. Now, get ready for your agents constant calls, ones begging you to play wizened women deciding whether to kill for a Happy Meal, or to kill for a cigarette. Oh, wait, did you already play that in Monster?...

Charli finally followed my advice and tried to arrange a return of her adoptive moppets. Things did not quite go as planned, however. Charli presented them to the orphanage, and the orphanage director told her their policy: “Orphans sold here will not be accepted for return.”

Per my earlier coaching of Charli, she started throwing everything in sight: computer monitors, pencil sharpeners (it was an old facility), chairs, desks, on and on. Orphanage workers started filming this on their cell phones, and that’s when things really got nasty.

Ms. Theron started screaming: “I DO NOT WANT THESE MOPPETS!!! DO YOU UNDERSAND ME?!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WORK IT TAKES TO RAISE THEM!!! TAKE THEM BACK, NOW!!!” And then she ran outside with every employees cell phone and threw them into oncoming traffic on the one-oh-one, where the phones were all run over and smashed into bits.

After Charli told me this, I knew we needed to come up with a better plan, but unfortunately for her, I didn’t have one... Yet, they were orphans from Africa — that’s it! We would Fedex them back to Africa, where they came from! High fives, all around... To be continued...

There are as many opinions about Gwyneth Paltrow as there are stars in the Milky Way Galaxy. Although they generally fall into two camps: lovers and haters. Haters are quick to point out her: Hollywood royalty, family connections; and charmed life. Gwynnie lovers note that her Dad passed away when she was thirty-one, that she survived a very trying marriage, and that her talents on the sound stage are among the best in the world...

Who wouldn’t want Gwynnie as their girlfriend? The only problem being that she’s already taken by that giant in screenwriting, that Orson Welles, aka Bradley Wonder-Bred. She keeps putting up the not yet available sign, one only seen by superstar bloggers.

In the Christmas Goop video with Kate Hudson, Gwyneth said she drinks every day. If you are in anyway familiar with Alcoholics Anonymous, you know this is a sure sign of being afflicted with the disease of alcoholism. I’m keeping this on the Q-T (the quiet), so any value here as an intervention cannot happen. She may have taken steps to remedy any dependence, but this note is staying put as incentive for her.

(Snapshot from a c. 2020, Goop video. Used without permission. She doesn’t go around hassling people though. She’s cool.)

Who could anyone ever get mad at someone with that sweet of a face? Isn’t she beautiful? You can almost see the girl from whence arrived the woman...

In more than just a few, Right-wing circles, Gwyneth Paltrow has a terrible reputation. She’s seen as being uppity, and elitist. Yet, her most recent Instagram post will change more than a few opinions about her. Paltrow has so much more integrity than her detractors.

Gwyneth defended the “Black Lives Matter” crusade, and flatly denounced the lame, “All Lives Matter,” quasi-racist movement. All lives aren’t being taken out by the police, just Black ones.

Gwyneth Paltrow has a new project under development, and it’s entitled, I Gwynnie, I Thespian. I caught up with her on her veranda as she explained the work:

“The Paltrow Family Archives has tons of material that I just don’t know where it should go. Should I give it to the Smithsonian? I know that the Academy would love to get their hands on this footage. But where is the most appropriate place for my patented musings and offhand remarks?”

“Bradley Palchuck, that’s my husband, and myself, started brainstorming, and we realized that I was underrepresented in the public television space. Then why not have an eight-parter about my life before the camera? We knew instantly that this was a capital idea. I especially wanted to capture my British period with the divine accent I mastered.”

“Here’s just a sample of me and Judi Dench discussing my Oscar-winning performance in Shakespeare in Love.” [She held up a Youtube video to me on her iPhone.]

“Judi, I just don’t know if I get, get in the broadest sense, get my character, Viola de Lesseps. Is there anything else I can possibly do to make this, my nuanced performance, Oscar-worthy?”

“Get Weinstein to make your nude scene over ten minutes.”

“And the rest is Hollywood history, my friend. There’s plenty more where that came from, that I won’t try and bore you with — but it is absolutely scintillating.

Palchuck will be returning from his daily, three-hour, workouts shortly, whilst I’m focusing on eating less this year. With I Gwynnie, I Thespian a lock at the Emmys, and my weight below 110, this will be a year for all us Gwyneth fans to remember forever...”

Outside of bit parts on television that her producer husband, Bradley, throws her way; Gwyneth has only appeared once on the silver screen in the past ten years. Afterwards. she vowed to never appear on the big screen again. Here’s the inside scoop why she called it quits:

She has always favored period pieces, so a cameo as Constance Meriwether in 2017’s Land ’Ho made perfect sense.

Yet Quentin Tarantino of dark comedy fame, only put Gwyneth in one scene. She pointed to a blue screen and shouted: “Cap’n, this land is the best I’ve seen, and I was on the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Ned, when was that?... Whatever, I was on that expedition, Ned... Someone wake up Ned...

“How can Ned be dead when we just shared grog. Ned, I cannot bear to see you perish. Please, Ned, over these Rockies lies gold aplenty that awaits us both. Dang, Ned, dang, even with your passing, I cannot tarry to express a eulogy in your honor. My fortunes await me. Rest in peace, dear Ned. I am off for yet more golden adventure...”

Reviews were middling. Although John Johnson of the Toledo Telegraph called Ms. Paltrow’s performance “riveting and revelatory” after Gwynnie showed up at their Main Street Rialto to promote Land ’Ho...

Gwynnie recently shared a post where she memorializes her father, Bruce, in buttermilk pancakes. Her father passed away eighteen years ago, and she still misses him a lot. Mr. Paltrow made great griddle cakes, so is there any other fitting way to keep his memory alive, but with pancakes and maple syrup?

In the post, her son, Moses, and her stepson, Brody, are waiting for the pancakes to get off the griddle. Ms. Paltrow has openly admitted that Bradley is not the man that her father was. The three-foot poster of Bruce on their bedroom wall is one clue.

To demonstrate to the kids the extent with which Bradley misses the mark, they have this: Sunday’s buttermilk pancake, memorial breakfasts. Gwynnie gives a quick sermon on her father’s greatness in contraposition to Bradley’s less than stellar place in the new, blended family, and then the kids solemnly devour the hot cakes...

Goop has a great, new product in this age of Coronavirus. It’s called the Coronavirus, Social-distancing, Intel Helmet, (aka the Intel Helmet), and it dispatches any encroaching into the helmet owner’s personal space.

It has a spinning, weed whacker filament out the top, whose tip holds 50 amps of charge, enough to power your home. The current is kept in the thirty-pound, battery fanny pack (the XT Intel Helmet takes solar as a power source).

If anyone is within the six feet social distance minimum, the six foot filament zaps them. This will knock them sideways. Advanced facial recognition circuitry senses if the encroacher has not exited the scene, and is a repeat offender. If they are still within six feet, they are zapped with an additional 50 amps, and they are knocked unconscious for EMTs to revive, if need be.

The Intel Helmet has a clear plastic face covering to stop spitters in their tracks, and around the waist is an ear-splitting speaker which broadcasts “freaky” every ten feet to anyone approaching. This helps to clear the way for the Intel Helmet wearer, and provides a cadence for marching.

The product was unveiled at a Goop dinner gathering hosted by none other than CEO, Gwyneth Paltrow. Major SoCal dignitaries such as her godfather Steven Spielberg were all in attendance. Gwynnie paraded around the banquet hall showing off the features to everyone who is anyone in Hollywood.

Later, she gave a lengthy speech, where she was near tears thanking her engineering division. To quote: “Only in America, could such a technical vision be realized into something so incredibly useful for anyone who can afford its price tag of $9,999.95. God bless America, especially those Americans with deep pockets!

“And, hey, individually, including everyone in this room, can and will make a difference against our common enemy, Coronavirus! Get the Helmet today, and thrive! Feel healthy again!...”

The green triangle on the Helmet is where the 100 amps flow through the filament to the hot electrode. As of yet, the Intel Helmet has not proven to be any hazard to Gwynnie.

You definitely get your money’s worth, there cannot be any question. This has every feature you could ever want in a Coronavirus helmet, and then some.

But unfortunately, this is not the XT, the solar powered version. There were production delays in China for portable solar panels. Even without the solar power XT, you have 100 amps of explosive power at your disposal.

Be the first in your neighborhood, your town even, to own one of these personal safety zappers. Time to take down those Coronavirus ignorant!!! Before you cut off the current, and while they’re still frying, tell ’em that Gwynnie sent ya!!!

“I have the finale to Hygiene Man, Gwynnie.”

“I’ve been waiting, Bradley. I’m all ears!”

“Hygiene Man returns from the Thousand Years Hygiene War, and more than anything he expects a face mask from his partner, Gwendolyn.”

“That’s it, Gwynnie, Hygiene Woman has made a transformation by the Thousand Years War for Hygiene. She is not so much Hygiene Woman anymore, as she is Gwendolyn, and she is all for giving her action hero husband a face mask.”

“He expects me to give him a face mask? What if she doesn’t want to give him a face mask, then what?”

“No, you don’t understand. If she doesn’t give him a face mask, the world as they both know it will end. She doesn’t have any choice, she must give him a face mask!”

“Wonder-Bred, I don’t want in on your Hygiene Man anymore. Who did you ever option this to?”

“I am getting mucho interest in this plot treatment, and Gwynnie, you signed on to be Hygiene Woman. Hygiene Woman must give Hygiene Man a face mask, if he wants a face mask. He just needs to ask for one.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Wonder-Bred. If I don’t want to give you a face mask, there isn’t any way you can make me. I don’t know you anymore, Dickweed...”

Will Hygiene Woman give her co-star, Hygiene Man, a face mask — when the cameras are rolling, or behind closed doors? Stay tuned, same Hygiene time, same Hygiene channel...

Gwynnie was wearing a t-shirt with this printed on the front, three times: “T ∧” Either this means T and A, or Tau Alpha, maybe Gwynnie’s sorority, or well... I think the first explanation makes the most sense.

Okay, then she wears it for one of three reasons: One, to objectify herself, and thus arouse her husband, Bradley Wonder-Bred; two, to get Wonder-Bred to back off, as in he’s treating her like an object; or three, to move a trending item on Goop.

We’ll be running a poll for you to decide why Gwynnie is wearing her T and A, t-shirt. Alternative explanations are also welcome. For instance, Gwynnie may be advertising a heretofore top-secret interest in women, co-eds, and girls...

Gwynnie’s Apple and Moses, already overwhelmed with a quasi-rigorous, SoCal, junior and senior high school, educational curriculum that includes making PB&J sandwiches, accurately throwing a Frisbee, and properly blowing their noses, had it ratcheted down a bit with the quarantine.

As part of Advanced Life Skills, they are now responsible for learning to crumple paper like Kleenex for sanitary deposit in the trash can. Way to be, kids...

As part of the privileged conversations contained in the DVD, I am Gwynnie, Deal!, we have this casting negotiation between her and her husband, Bradley Wonder-Bred:

“So I play Hygiene Woman, faithful sidekick to Hygiene Man? I don’t know how well this will be received, Dear.”

“Come on, Gwynnie. You know how much teens love hygiene, and this reinforces their understanding of a most vital topic. Gwynnie, Marvel and Spielberg have signed on, the budget is easily North of one-hundred-mill. I’ll write in a sidekick for you.”

“You mean the sidekick of a sidekick? Any advance casting notice on who’ll play my sidekick?”

“You will love this. We have Tom Cruise to play Hygiene-man-in-waiting.“

“Well, now you have my interest. What’s the premise?

“Hygiene Man roams from town to town looking for social distancing violations, and for anyone who isn’t getting with the program. Any scum bags caught not wearing their face masks, or a scarf poorly fastened, are summoned to Hygiene Man Court. There, they are either put in Hygiene Jail, or Hygiene Man just beats them up for being unsanitary, and maybe for being a virus vector.”

“Bradley, you have outdone yourself.”

“But there’s more, much more. Hygiene Man takes exemplary Hygiene Boys, ones who promise to always wear a face mask for the rest of their lives, and gives them special powers.”

“What kind of powers? And what about Hygiene Girls?”

“Boys are empowered to spread disease onto their enemies. Girls are already hygienic, so they aren’t really awarded anything.”

“You know, these are very valuable role models for the youth, and the adult. I see people out there who just aren’t germ-aware, and I just want to kill them. In one sense, the virus is invisible, but in another sense it is very real, it has entered all our lives, uninvited. True, I don’t know anyone who caught Coronavirus, and I do know everyone in Hollywood. Yet there is always a clear and present danger that the hoi polloi will rise up against us.”

“Well, that’s just it. The well-heeled own all the keys to working class salvation, and we just need to turn the screws, as needed. Hygiene Man is an overseer of the lower classes, he knows when they haven’t been hygienic—”

“Like Santa Clause, and Baby Jesus — that’s such a powerful message, Bradley, and so valuable in these times of crisis. You thought of this all by yourself?”

“Well, me, my mentor, Ryan Murphy, and a month of intensive focus groups. This is so topical, Gwynnie. This is going to be right up there with Rambo, Jaws, and Star Wars — real cinematic experiences, not Annie Hall or anything like that.”

“This is why I married you, Bradley, because of your business acumen as a screenwriter...”

Because Gwyneth was born Hollywood royalty, she went to two private schools: New York’s Spence School and Santa Monica’s Crossroads School. The motto of austere Spence is: “Wealthy youth congregate here.” More liberal SoCal, Crossroads is known as: “A great place for learning, and smoking grass.”

Gwyneth has two teenagers named Apple and Moses (mommy is a Californian, remember) who live in yet more rarefied air. While Gwynnie was expected to do coursework, her moppets are expected to interpret their environment, given various tableaus of experience. It is the latest in New Age youth training.

Apple arrives at the room of her choice for that day, and takes notes on her surroundings. At the end of week, she is graded on her ability to interpret her senses.

Moses is required to do similar exercises, although because he is an avid skateboarder, he presents an optional short speech to licensed New Age faculty on this week’s downhill odyssey.

Apple is showing great progress. Whereas she originally only chose one homeroom, now she selects sensory input from one of five homerooms! Moses skateboarding skills are now exemplary, so he will be skating at the school’s Salute to Tony Hawk!

Metabolizing and digesting our feelings are nice insightful turns of phrase that I heard at Goop. Although listening to Gwynnie’s hour long video with her intimacy coach becomes; “How can we better feel what we’re already feeling?”

Gwynnie’s husband, Bradley Wonder-Bred, was there for all the fun and exciting action, and looked like he was ready to bolt at the fortieth minute. Gwynnie was sitting on the floor, and she put her arm over his thigh, as if to say: “If you leave early, before the full hour, then I will vivisect you, and cannibalize you, in front of your children...”

Girls, Ryan told a joke, so it’s time to laugh: Ha, ha, he, he... Again, ha, ha, he, he... Once more, ha, ha, he, he... That’s what I like to hear, my mentorship, and girl solidarity, on the Red Carpet...

I was absolutely flabbergasted when Gwynnie tied the knot with Bradley Wonder-Bred. The Gwynster and me go way back. I had sent her at least a dozen Tweets. I was in her inner circle. I saved top-shelf remarks for her like: “You’re such an attractive woman, Gwyneth.” She was so profoundly effected by this comment that she liked it.

How could I not think that 3-Star Michelin dinners in Paris were next? We’d soon be globetrotting, right? You don’t think we’d be walking down the aisle very soon? What drugs are you on? I was hearing wedding bells loud and clear. But whatever happened to our love, Gwyneth? Again, I was flabbergasted, stunned, floored, crippled really. Was there anything Bradley Wonder-Bred could offer her that I wouldn’t be soon?

Wonder-Bred was a TV-gag writer of a limited-appeal, teen, homosexual soap opera. What made Gwynnie so fascinated with him? Okay, honest appraisal: He spends most days in the gym, but he wears a toupee (honest).

Anyhow, I see Ms. Paltrow parading around town with Wonder-Bred in tow, heading for the latest premiere, or just to pick up bean-juice, kale, and cauliflower for some hideous, wretch-worthy, dinner to share with her depressed, blended family.

Then I wonder where Gwynnie and me ever went wrong. I said all the right things, my career is catapulting to super-stardom. Honestly, Gwyneth, what gives? Why did you drop the ball on romantic perfection?

Gwyneth belongs in long-term psychoanalysis, perhaps alongside heavy sedation, although likely not hospitalization or prison. Gwynnie’s kids need to be taken from her (and I am sure her kids would agree). The list of prospective, society sanctions against her is never ending. You name a punishment, and she deserves its administration...

Let’s see how sharp my readership really is: On Instagram, Gwynnie, along with her Bradley Falchuk, plugs an organization that supplies medical teams with PPE (personal protective equipment). On the prior post, she is proudly decked out in PPE, a face mask, that could be sent instead to medical teams. Her rationalizing Emma could explain, I can’t.

PPE won’t help someone in a super market — unless they’re already sick and don’t want to pass along their germs.

The upshot is that Gwynnie expects people to give money to a cause when she is part of the problem, albeit a small one — her house is not floor-to-ceiling face masks. At least, not that we know. Yet her millions of followers could be following her example of denying medical teams PPE.

The problem that Gwynnie has always had, is that she refuses to accept scientific fact on face value, in favor of a quick hit of hopefulness. Her mantra becomes: Maybe the medical establishment has it completely wrong. Just maybe that diagnosis you received, saying you need to have a burial plot in your name, or that your chronic fatigue was untreatable, was all lies.

Gwyneth is first and foremost an entertainer, where she departs from her calling is when she plays medical doctor...

In celebration of America’s Coronavirus, at-home buying spree, Gwynnie will be offering a new selection of a $1,000-plus-apiece, dried apricots. It’ll last until cockroaches rule the world, which, given the worldwide panic, may be sooner than we know.

Gwynnie got slammed again without cause. After so much of this troll abuse, she must wonder if there is a legal remedy, or maybe there’s a magic incantation to get the haters to go f*ck themselves.

Anyhow, the insanely hyper-critical felt that introducing a high-end clothing item is inappropriate, because Coronavirus will level America in a few days. The haters cite readers of crystal balls who are saying that within 48 hours, life as we now know it will cease to exist.

The attacks on Gwyneth lack all rationality. What does her business’ usual price point have to do with the Coronavirus? You’re supposed to block any new product offerings in light of a pandemic? I thought the best way to maintain calm was to keep to business as usual. Is the CEO of Amazon, Jeff Bezos, delaying launches of products costing more than $250 in respect for the inane, or the viral dead?

Gwynnie’s Goop needs to have a caveat: “If expensive clothing items make you ill, more so than Coronavirus, visit Martha Stewart’s website. Stewart’s site will have instructions on how to make doilies, and styrofoam balls to grace your dress at your provincial, Easter pageant.”

Have you heard about this? Gwynnie is engraving Goop homeless coupons to be distributed among homeless camps. This is Gwynnie’s latest Goop philanthropy initiative. The homeless cannot redeem the coupon because they have no money to buy anything.

Yet the token gesture gives the impression that Gwynnie’s company is being generous to the unfortunate when it’s only a cheap publicity stunt. They are geniuses over at Goop, they really are. Congrats! Hats off!

(Editor’s note: Gwyneth actually contacted me about this piece and the next one. She said: “I was going to sue you for libel, but then I realized that I could use the extra publicity. So instead of litigation, I say, keep up the good work, Other Letter! Hats off!...”)

The latest issue of Goop is a real shocker. The sensationalist headline reads: “I’m a man trapped in a woman’s body!” with a picture of Gwynnie after hormone treatments.

She has a mustache and beard just like she did in Shakespeare in Love. Are the testosterone injections she received in 1997, the same ones she’s getting now? Enquiring minds need to know...

Isn’t it interesting how Gwynnie’s Goop has evolved? In 2011, she featured how-to articles on Unsubscribing From Email Lists, yet now, in 2020, her go-tos are how-tos such as, Getting Your Boyfriend To Put Out.

(The link above is from the Goop National Archive. This is a partnership with Michael Bloomberg and the Smithsonian’s Blossoming Feminism Initiative.)

My understanding of the Paltrow moppets is that they run their junior high, and high school, drug concessions with an iron fist. Yet sage Momma Gwynnie tells them: “Don’t be so aggressive, they will come to you for bud product. Soft sell, not hard sell, this is how I sell sex toys at Goop. Use the same method in selling your cannabis.”

Moses, Gwynnie’s youngest, is not yet in high school. His sister, Apple, is arranging a dealership for him, including clientele introductions, when he gets to Beverly Hills High. Their popularity, and name recognition, guarantees brisk sales for their shadowy, sponsoring “syndicate”...

Gwynnie’s commercial offerings do seem to have matured, while she looks younger than her years. I’m a long-time fan of hers. I remember 1998’s Shakespeare in Love, and anyone could tell she was (and is) both super-bright, and equally beautiful. Obviously, she’s also a wallflower.

Part of Gwynnie’s struggles with fame is that she has had an embarrassment of riches for most of her life. Yet her father passed away when she was just thirty-one years old, and she is divorced. Besides that, she has entered a scientific field of wellness, without the background people expect of her. She has taken enough lumps for false starts that she now has learned to at least partially temper her earlier, (some might say) wild enthusiasm for treatment modalities.

Her Goop Lab, on Netflix, sounds like lots of fun to watch. Although there have been caveats issued about trying what is seen on TV for yourself (caveats from Gwynnie, and a few in the medical profession). Gwynnie, herself, has always generated tons of interest, not always positive. To me, she’s a very sweet and attractive woman, she is Viola de Lessups from Shakespeare in Love...

I had heard that there are some low lives who give Apple Martin a hard time because of her mother’s product line. Gwynnie sells stuff to better enjoy a woman’s life. If you’re that much of a jealous and petty prude, then you can spend the rest of your life in church, but leave an innocent teenager alone...

Gwynnie got taken to task yet again. This time by the chief of the British National Health Service. More of the same criticism, she blurs her hopes to inform, with her interest to entertain. Gwynnie has become a bit of a whipping post, she gets dressed down regularly.

There is a balance somewhere between entertainment and science, and so far it has been rather elusive for Gwynnie. Any New Age claims without substantiation, a medical doctor could rip to bits in a one-minute sound bite. Anecdotal evidence typically cannot stand up to double-blind studies (placebo versus active drug).

My personal opinion is that she could make more mainstream fare interesting, but she’s been avoiding that route. With limited reporting resources, there is a limited menu of tantalizing subjects. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, are the safest bets, although maybe not from a medical perspective. Gwynnie has, perhaps unwittingly, become the Barnum of this age...

As part of Other Letter’s Force for Change Imperative, I sat down with Gwynnie in the kitchen of her Bel Air mansion.

“What’ll it be? Hello? What’ll you drink? My in-house bartender has off tonight, some annoying holiday. I can’t remember which one. What is that Mexican holiday — Dawn of the Dead?”

“Well, I’m driving.”

“Who cares? I have Ripple, Thunderbird, Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill? I got into the fortified stuff, so it’s really sweet.”

“Hmm, I’m kinda in the mood for OJ.”

“You’re gay?”

“What?!”

“That’s a joke. I’m funnier than my husband, the world-famous, TV gag writer. Okay, I get it, you can’t hold your liquor. No problem. I’ll take some of the kids breakfast juice. And I shall get my favorite, Ripple. Cannot go one day without this stuff.”

We had a miserable time, and Gwynnie chased me around the kitchen with a meat cleaver at one point, but I may have made an impression on her, and her desire to drink every day.

Ray, let me tell you about how great a man that my Dickweed really is. Master Dickweed and I were on an Amtrak train to Chicago. Dickweed noticed the train was going far too fast at a critical downhill juncture (if I remember, this was just outside of Jolene, past the stacks). With preternatural abilities, he decoupled the locomotive from the passenger cars thus saving the lives of hundreds.

So before you go trashing the man I love so dearly, remember that Dickweed is a national effing treasure. I mean, come on, he wrote episodes of Glee. He proved to me that an Oscar-winner doesn’t measure up to an Emmy winner. He is a peerless man without peers. Lest we forget, Dickweed is a tireless supporter of victims rights, especially train-wreck victims.

The first Gwynnie videotape was uncovered recently, and put on Youtube. Here is the transcript verbatim:

“...Thanks for the intro, Mr. Cunningham. Yes, I’m Gwynnie, your eighth grade class president, as if you didn’t know this already. We’ll be having a bake sale next month, and I’m in charge of it. Thanks so much for putting me in charge of this vital function, Mr. Cunningham. You’re aces, you really are.

“I have already assigned roles for everyone. Cindy, you’re product development, and Rich, you’re finance. I will be making the brownies. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

“Class, you are to report to one of us. Everyone got that? It’s for a great cause, kids without coordinated and dynamic, fashion accessories. Yes, it’s tragic, but they exist in SoCal.

“I will be throwing a social this afternoon at my estate in Malibu. You should have received invites if I felt you were worthy. This is not BYOB, don’t bring your own anything. I will be providing the refreshments. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. How cool is that? I have an indoor pool so there will be swimming, although bathing suits are optional, if you get my drift.

“My parents are away scouting locations, so I can do anything I want. Mr. Cunningham, you’re invited if you’d like. Otherwise, that’s it from the Paltrow end. You may continue with your fascinating class, sir...”

I don’t know, folks, but I see this photo, and I do not see the work of Ansel Adams, I see amateur hour, I see someone wanting a huge payout for nothing, I see someone exploiting any possible loophole in copyright law, and I see a nuisance lawsuit.

(By the way, Ansel Adams originals go for between ten and twenty-thousand-dollars, Singer is charging ten times more for his crap.)

Singer’s profession may be as a photographer, but who knows? He looks like his real profession is getting a free ride on the Gwynnie Paltrow gravy train.

Damages are given based on how much money the plaintiff lost, and the defendant gained, because the photo was plagiarized. How much money did Singer lose because this crummy little photo was published by Goop? It sounds like he’s getting tons of publicity now though.

How much time and energy did Singer require framing and re-framing, sitting in a dark room for hours to finally get the exact color composition? Singer is a real professional, a real professional thief.

Gwynnie must be sitting pretty with all the money she got for publishing this photo. Either that, or is she looking around her house and office for cameras of that prank show, Punk’d. This is just so bizarre...

Her apparent ex, Chris Martin, is with his new girl, Dakota Johnson, which may be his forever girl, if you get my drift. Dakota may be a bit of a masochist, or else she enjoys the frostbite from being in sub-zero temps with a big hole in the knees of her jeans.

Gwynnie’s kids are encamped in the pinball room of the Aspen Hilton desperate to escape the paparazzi. Yet where is Momma Blythe? As part of Murdoch’s Sun wiretapping network, we picked up this phone message off of Gwynnie’s answering machine (easy hack):

“Hi, dear, it’s your mother, Blythe Danner. I have to beg off of skiing at Aspen. They all know how to ski there, which is big, and the guys have money to spend on a girl. But dear, it’s just too early in the season.

“Granular is for you younguns. I’m just too old to ski crud. If I’m not thigh deep in powder, why bother? Get me on a helicopter and drop me off into virgin powder, and I am in heaven, heaven, Gwynnie. Get some avalanche action going. Remember when I out-skied that avalanche in the Grand Tetons?

“There won’t be any triple black diamond trails open yet, so what’s the point, dear? Aerials are why I ski, and they’re no fun at all on ice. I planned some new jumps, that I’ve been mastering, dry run, at the gym, but I’m sorry, dear, not on a skating rink, and you won’t be seeing me get soaked in slush. I’ve never caught an edge with any of my landings, and I don’t intend to now.

“Okay, dear, I’d join you for buff studs and drinks après ski, but that only comes after a full day of carving perfect turns.

“No, sorry, I take that back, kiddo. I need to bring down my times for the Senior Winter Olympics. I’m not gonna be competitive sipping brandy before the fireplace all night.

“Gwynnie, there is no way that I’m going back on the half pipe. It’s just too easy. I did 360s, then 720s, and I wasn’t getting any more lift to have more revolutions. Bummer, dear. Plus, the skiers hate the snow boarders, and vice versa. I was expecting full-scale civil war between the two camps.

“Give me a call in January, make that late January, before President’s Day. Every trail will be open then. It’ll be chilly, but I have my flask of Jack to keep me toasty. Only the hearty will brave the cold then, sweetie, no goddamn lines. Keep it real, dear.”

Everyone who follows Gwynnie Paltrow knows how thin her skin is. Shaking her fists at the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks, she personally takes to heart every negative comment on social media. Nothing rolls off her back.

She weeps openly moments after she starts to read her Instagram account. Goop employees know to leave her alone as she sobs over every post by any and all Facebook trolls...

Gwynnie brings me to all kinds of places as she wants to introduce to new cultural influences. Most recently, she brought me to the Old Tijuana section of Los Angeles to Grotto el Mexicano which is a favorite among Hollywood types.

Gwynnie always orders the huevos rancheros, and she often goes in the back to tell the Hispanic chefs how the dishes should be cooked. I could hear her loudly shout: “Wrong, wrong, wrong! Butter is last. Buttero es lasto. How did you get to be so stupid, when I got it all going on? Hmm?”

Grotto El Mexicano has a seven-piece mariachi band called The Gracious Dead that plays constantly, every hour of every day, as the Grotto is open 24/7.

“And play my Grotto favorite, MacArthur Park. Someone left my cake out in the rain. Green icing dripping down. Come on. Sing it like you mean it. Gees, how lame can you get? MacArthur Park, where’s the contemporary feel? Why don’t you have castanets? Hmm? I’ve never heard of a mariachi band so much on the cheap.

“You want el tip-o, don’t you, Gracious Dead? Other, I like to throw pennies on the ground that they scramble for. Throw some pennies. Come on. East meets West, North meets South, rich meets poor. Feel the power of capitalism.

“Hey, the Dead, why do you all look like you’re asleep? Do I have to go out to my car and get my whip? Other, they have trouble with simple instructions. Sing with me, Other. On this verse, hit it!... Someone left my cake out in the rain...”

Gwynnie showed me around the city of Angels when she wasn’t shooting her latest, greatest, Pirates are Forever. She really gave me the insider’s look.

Unbeknownst, every Angeleno eats hot-and-spicy Mexican, or at least Tex-Mex, at every meal. Most here have colitis ulcers because of the endless hot pepper sauce which is even sprinkled on desserts like the apricotos, or the pepperinos.

Very surprisingly, White children in L.A. today, are all proudly named either: Jose, Magdalena, Conchita, Nestor, Ronaldo, Consuela, and Miguel, after Mexican, Incan, or Mayan, folk heros...

The plot centers around Elle being scammed out of her Bingo winnings by an elderly, veteran card shark (played by Jack Nicholson), and how she gets it back with the help of the LAPD, and the Los Angeles Court System.

Christina Hendricks plays the LA DA looking everywhere for justice. Heather Graham plays the LAPD Sergeant needing to nail “that suckah” before she can retire from the force at full pension. Her detective sidekick, played by Gwyneth Paltrow, in her very first crime procedural role, scours the streets for “Bingo justice.”

Ashley Judd, plays the Supreme Court Justice who has a burning interest in seeing justice done right. Charlize Theron is the unusually cute, if not very bright bailiff, keeping the peace in Ms. Judd’s court.

Hey, Reese, we know you’re friendly with Kerry Washington, and we know she’s Black. Then you know how taboo it is to have a Black girlfriend like her. Reese, you might be blacklisted by Hollywood for contact with the Black race. Plus, because you’re a Southerner, you know you have to keep social distance with Black folk. You’re supposed to stay with your own kind.

Whatever you do, don’t bring it to the next level, and mix socially with Hispanics and Asians. We don’t need double trouble. Or if there’s a Native American on set, no powwows, you’d only be asking for a career ending spectacle, with cross-burning (or Apache equivalent), witnessed before Entertainment Tonight, and The New York Times.

Reese, I know how to at last get your career going. First and foremost, “Keep it White.” Mix with your own skin color, this is the only place to find true friendship. Whites are so successful, because of inbreeding, and exclusiveness.

Reese, you reached out to me. You wanted to know how to finally get your career going. So I made this your new mantra: “Keep it White!!!”

Reese I’m not saying to be ashamed of your Black acquaintances, but you must never be seen with any Black woman in public. If you go out to lunch with one, and there are paparazzi, be safe, and run to another restaurant without photogs for cover. You’ll thank me for my progressive and patient mentorship. Remember, Reese, please: White is right!!!

Reese is a very thoughtful woman who doesn’t believe in blatantly displaying her sexuality. This is in sharp contrast to tawdry Duchess Kate who relishes any and all opportunity to flash her booty.

Reese has said that she will never openly display her sexuality in any men’s magazine. This isn’t just because of her upbringing — as she claims — but instead, because she had issue with her own physical appearance.

In her Vanity Fair feature, she claimed that “funny doesn’t sag.” Hers may one day sag, yet don’t sag yet, but she’s running out of time to prove it. Otherwise, she’s saving up that Maxim pictorial for a guy she hasn’t yet met.

(Reese, I know that gentlemen never tell, but I have payroll to make, and a multinational to run. Sorry...)

Reese has done her best to alienate Pantheon screeners who are now vetting for the Oscars season. Somehow, top-level Other Letter has found it to forgive her for her many, many indiscretions (see below concerning Oprah’s treatment of Michael Jackson). That said, is there anyone perkier, and more upbeat in Hollywood as Reese is? She competes with Taylor Swift for the sunshine crown...

For all anyone outside of the Witherspoon family knows, Reese’s husband may have died a few years prior. No one knows if any of the Pantheon husbands are even alive, because they rarely hang out with their wives in public.

They have the strangest, non-committed marriages. Why would they ever get married, if they don’t absolutely adore the ground on which each other treads, and don’t want to spend every waking minute together?...

Reese Witherspoon was removed from an Other Pantheon because of her close ties with Oprah Winfrey. Oprah was the one who said “Hope lives” after Trump was inaugurated. Winfrey also allowed those who testified for Michael Jackson in court, to testify against him on Oprah, so they can promote their new movie.

In Reese’s moving, yet a bit rambling, excerpted, 87-page attempt to get back into the Pantheon, she claimed that Oprah was just a, and we’ll quote:

“...a ton of cocoa blubber...[and that] The Other Letter welcoming a dwarf such as myself into the Pantheon has made my lilliputian burden that much lighter to bear...You are a national treasure, Other, more so than even Streep, of whom I agree with you, she does overact in her movies...

“Put me back on your Pantheon, and I’ll even show you my world class collection of Elvis memorabilia, including his headband and cape from Viva Las Vegas! It is in mint, I mean mint condition. I was at an Elvis swap meet just last November, and I scored these beauties.

They’re insured for over $10,000, but they’re priceless, just priceless. Other, these are museum quality, easy. Where is Elvis when you need him? You know what I’m saying?

“I’m up for almost every role in Hollywood where they need a kid who has the acting chops of an adult. As a dwarf, I can play children, I regularly get offered these parts. I even tell my agent to underestimate my height. I’m five-foot-one, but I tell William Morris to say I’m four-foot-seven. I mean every actress overestimates her bust measurement, why can’t I fudge my height a little?

“Quentin had called my agent just last week. He’s remaking The Sound of Music, and I’m up for Liesl. I’m getting down the method acting for her now: ‘I am sixteen, going on seventeen, la, la, la.’ I cannot wait. This is a plum dwarf role, in a long line of plum dwarf roles I’ve played. Playing Liesl? This is every actress’ dream come true!!

“Quentin said he’ll be playing up the carnage side of The Sound of Music. You know, when the Nazis invade wherever the Hell it is they invade.

“Anyhow, I really admire Quentin for his use of bloodshed to advance the narrative. Mister Tarantino told me that Liesl will be toting a semi-automatic rifle for her entire performance. I’ve got my finale down cold: “The hills are alive with the sound of rat-tat-tat.” I’ll be singing it, because the Julie Andrews role doesn’t make it past the First Act.

“In the Swiss Alps, she dies in a friendly fire incident, one related to the war effort. You know when they escape at the Von Trapp performance near the end? In Quentin’s version, there is no escape. Bodies laying everywhere bleeding in the theater. Talk about drama. Isn’t that a fascinating use of artistic license? Quentin is a genius.

“I’m getting a little tired of playing characters where they strap me up on stilts like with Kiss boots (I had them play at my kids’ birthday party), or Elton John boots. You know, from his early days. Or they’ll say, ‘We can’t use a dwarf, Reese, we’re sorry.’ But I’m not breaking my ankle for any movie anyhow.

“Give me a shorty role, and I am one happy girl. Playing Roseanne Cash, they had me on stilts. Shh, I’m not authorized to discuss my height prep for Roseanne. But that’s why I stopped auditioning for adult parts, my podiatrist said I had to avoid more sprained ankles, or I wouldn’t be able to stand up without crutches.

“I’m Hollywood’s go-to for adults playing kids. Kids can’t remember their lines for beans anyhow. I’ll tell you though, I’m really looking forward to Quentin’s Sound of Music. They just need to sit me in the makeup trailer a little longer so I look like a teen, or even a tween. Shoot, to be getting any parts at forty-three! I’d play a newborn.

“And if you look at what I can do, and what I’ve done, my nearest midget competitors in the history of Hollywood were the Munchkins from the Wizard of Oz. And did they win Oscar gold? Of course not, they were untrained dwarves, but I am a supremely-trained dwarf. I took the all-time biggest dwarves to the mat — no pun intended.

“Other, how’s that for success in Hollywood? I’m a legend among midgets. I am so worthy of inclusion in your Pantheon, so worthy. Don’t disappoint me, I can get you a job in Hollywood. We all started in craft services, can you flip soy-burgers?...”

Kate Hudson wears a surgical mask and gloves to the super market. This is obviously not enough. She needs to wear a head-to-toe, hazmat suit with full-face helmet and oxygen tank. When will Kate have enough protection from the elements? That get-up may approach what she needs...

Kate received her Oscar nomination for Almost Famous, don’t call me to the mat for calling her “Almost” Kate Hudson.

Dream girl Kate Hudson didn’t miss a beat in her Oscar-nom, yet she only received the Academy Award finalists, not the Oscar (Marcia Gay Harden won in 2000 for Pollock).

The role of super-groupie-hipster Penny Lane was made for Kate, in part because of her Rock ’n Roll lifestyle, great looks, and kind nature. In many of her movies since though, critics had little to say except that even her beautiful, warming sunshine was not enough to brighten these screenplays’s dismal prospects.

Ms. Hudson carries herself as someone older might, yet she is only a youthful-looking 40 years old. She is famous friends with Gwyneth Paltrow.

Kate has appeared on Glee as Cassandra July, famed dance instructor at the occasionally celebrated New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts.

Ms. Hudson is a devout Buddhist, as is her Mom, Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-in alumna Goldie Hawn — and just like her Mom, she is much smarter than she appears to be.

Sofía Vergara had planned on a career in dentistry, and was two semesters shy from completing her undergraduate degree, when a photog noticed her on a beach in her native Columbia. This led to modeling work, and then to co-hosting Fuera de serie (or Out of the Ordinary), a travel series where Sofia reported back from exotic locales all around the globe. This show, and her beautiful, effervescent personality, made her a huge hit in the Univisión Latin American television market.

Because of turmoil in her homeland, she hoped for a better life in America, so she moved to Miami. (Her older brother was murdered during a kidnap attempt in 1998; and in 2011, her younger brother was deported back to Columbia.)

Ms. Vergara has appeared in several movies and television shows — both English and Spanish-language — but the vehicle that really moved her show business career into high gear was Modern Family.

For her Modern Family role alone, Ms. Vergara earned four Golden Globes, four Primetime Emmys, and seven Screen Actors Guild Awards. The financial periodical Forbes ranks Sofia as the highest earning actor on United States television.

Sofia appeared with Reese Witherspoon in Don’t Mess with Texas about a prisoner and a police officer on the run. Sofia has great, sexy dance moves you would never see North of the border.

Jessica Alba is the cutie-pie with the absolutely adorable, megawatt smile. Considering Jessica has been in 50 movies in her 33 years, she may well be one of the hardest working women in all of show business. Ms. Alba chooses to work in the most unusual films. She has been in Machete, and its sequel Machete Kills. She appeared in It Has Begun: Bananapocalypse, and had a leading role in more mainstream films like Little Fockers.

Ms. Alba recently wrapped up a sequel to Sin City entitled Sin City: A Dame to Kill For. With the redux, Jessica reprised her role as Nancy, but unlike the very well-received original, the next edition met with lukewarm reviews. The reason it was even made is because Hollywood would much rather bank on remaking a successful, known quantity, than take risks on anything new yet unproven. Watching the sequel, one got the sense that the director behind the second installment of the franchise, one ten years in the making, spent much more time on visual design than spent time rewriting the script — assuming the premise had any more life in it, and it may not have.

While Jessica’s biggest money-makers are in the sci-fi, action-thriller genres, including Fantastic Four, and Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer, one readily gets the sense that she possesses the intellect to do much better than appear in those simple fantasy roles, or crime-thriller ones like Awake or The Killer Inside Me. In fact, Ms. Alba studied acting with William H. Macy and his wife, Felicity Huffman (the ones who were nailed in an admissions sting), at the Atlantic Theater Company, one developed by Macy and David Mamet, the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright.

An avid swimmer and PADI-certified scuba-diver, Jessica was well-suited for the part of Maya on the television series Flipper. Sky Angel, as IMDB Pro lists her alias, elevated her game a notch or two playing Max Guevera in the TV series Dark Angel, a role which won her the Golden Globe.

Ms. Alba co-founded The Honest Company, a distributor of 100% natural home and baby products. The company fulfilled an unmet need in Jessica as she has two young girls, and she found it difficult to find products to care for them that were non-toxic. The company floated an initial public offering expected to raise $1 billion in corporation capital for Jessica, and the two other co-founders, as well as an investment consortium.

Albz — she definitely has interesting nicknames — identified with feminism by the age of five. While her family is very conservative, she was always the opposite. Ms. Alba broke ranks from the Church after she was hit on continually, and the youth pastor said it was because she was dressing provocatively when she knew she wasn’t. He said that the unwelcome advances were her fault, that she was coming on to these leches, and that she had to redeem herself for her past. Jessica saw the weak roles women played in the Bible, and this further alienated her from Christianity.

Ms. Alba is regularly included on listings of the most desirable, hottest, and sexiest women of People, FHM, GQ, Empire, and Maxim magazines. Directors want her to be nude in their films, but she has a no-nudity clause inserted in all of her contracts. Unlike many of her peers, Jessica has also made it very clear she will never sleep with anyone to advance her career.

Besides all this, Jessica gives as much of her time and energy as she can to Habitat for Humanity, environmental causes, AIDS prevention, and women’s and gay rights promotion and recognition.

Maggie seems so endearing and sweet, but she’s married as the day is long, so we won’t be putting any moves on her...

Sadly, Maggie Gyllenhaal is not getting all the parts she very richly deserves. While obviously a looker herself, Ms. Gyllenhaal is so much more than just the eye candy seen of every other starlet. As a rule, Hollywood people don’t have degrees. Maggie is brilliant, she has an Ivy League sheepsking from Columbia University. An Ivy Leaguer and an Academy Award nominee for Crazy Heart, plus she was nominated for Golden Globe awards, for Sherrybaby and Secretary.

She may be best known for her very sexual portrayal of submissive Lee Holloway in Secretary. Besides her performance, Maggie can also be credited for not worrying about what others think of her...

One of Maggie’s favorite turns is playing the lead in a meaningful, and timely, mini-series from the British Broadcasting Corporation (the BBC) called, The Honourable Woman. Ms. Gyllenhaal portrays Nessa Stein, daughter of an Israeli arms dealer who ultimately turns the destructive family business into one supporting communication infrastructure between the Arabs and the Israelis...

And Ms. Gyllenhaal won the Golden Globe for her tour de force, bravura performance as Nessa. That was her first Golden Globe win, and the hope here is that this will more doors for Maggie.

Maggie has a soft, honey-sweet, and beautiful speaking voice. If I was Ms. Gyllenhaal’s agent, I would be lining up voice work for her.

(Promotional still from On Becoming a God in Central Florida)
There’s a bit of an X-rated optical illusion in play below...

I’ve seen several of these Pantheon women (Kirsten seems to me like one, Gwynnie seems like another), and who they get saddled with as marital partners — along with dealing with excess baggage like offspring. (Offspring aren’t excess baggage unless they are accidents, as they seem to be in some cases here.)

Saddled is probably the wrong term, but an unhappy marriage — especially one where their kids may not be healthy because of constant fighting — is a major burden that sucks the life right of, well, life.

I don’t know any of these women, or their carefully-chosen spouses, but they do seem to have really settled. They’ve married down. They marry much younger guys, they marry far less successful guys. There is no point in having these husbands tag along on to the red carpet with these women, their “better halves” don’t have any star power.

It seems like there’s a lull in their career, and they hook up with the next acceptable candidate for life-long companionship that comes along. They may be ignored by their industry, and shut out at awards ceremonies, so they do the equivalent of slumming it. As they say: Marry in haste, repent at leisure...

Kirsten’s star is on the rise though. She’s top-billed in On Becoming a God in Central Florida. Ms. Dunst was most recently on the Sirius Radio Network where she lamented the lack of appreciation she has gotten for all her great work.

At Other Letter, we know the real reason Kirsten hasn’t been getting the kudos she deserves — her boobs are too big to be taken seriously by Hollywood. To casting agents, she’s got a corporation up front, and this corporation says porn star is her real calling. Big knockers are not taken seriously when the casting director is looking to fill a Grace Kelly-esque part.

Kirsten has said that: “My boobs precede my reputation wherever I go, I can’t help it, they do. They intoxicate the audience, but they’re just boobies, you know what I’m saying? So I’m typecast as the flirty sex pot. If everyone will just see around them for once, I’d start taking home awards trophies. I just bet I’d be taking home gold by now...”

Kirsten was at Coachella, except she spent some time at Churchella. That’s some goofiness her manager pulled on her, we’re pretty sure: “Go to Churchella, Kirsten, improve your movie demographics with people who spend all day praying for forgiveness. You’re not getting the roles you deserve, Kirsten, spend Sundays at Mass chatting up the congregation. Work your fan base.”

Managers like to suggest Church chat to their clients, unless there’s a new Kirsten, one who loves Jesus the Christ. It’s just too sad to contemplate.

Amanda had quite a health scare at the age of nineteen. She was absolutely certain she had a brain tumor, and that it was going to kill her. She was diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and depression.

Until the age of seventeen, Amanda took classical singing lessons. This prepared her for the role of Cosette in the 2012 film adaptation of Les Misérables. Ms. Seyfried can sing in perfect pitch, just listen to how she sings and plays guitar on the Sixties classic, Little Red Riding Hood. Amanda also has Bette Davis Eyes.

Amanda lives life on her own terms, and possesses quite the intellect. She studied meteorology for a spell, even hoping to make it as a career before people noticed her acting abilities. Ms. Seyfried is also fascinated with taxidermy, and she has several museum-quality specimens — yes, taxidermy.

Katy is being sued for $150,000 because she posted a photo onto her Instagram account of herself taken by someone else. She was decked out in a Halloween costume.

The implication is that Katy pocketed $150k in Katy-traffic by not offering attribution — except she’s not selling anything. Then did Ms. Perry contribute $150k to her bottom line by posting this photo? How on Earth did they ever arrive at that $150k figure?

Is it because she’s well-off, so she can be soaked?...

Some of her best songs include: Wide Awake, Waking Up in Vegas, Roar, Firework, Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.), California Gurls, and I Kissed a Girl.

Given her writing and performing interests, it’s surprising that her parents are both Pentecostal ministers. Katy began her career singing California Gospel and initially had limited exposure to secular, non-religious music. The next genre in her musical evolution was country compositions. Again, a far cry from what she sings today.

Katy is not from money, and her family struggled for awhile when she was young. Unlike many of her peers, she has done significant charity work, specifically relief efforts in poverty-stricken Madagascar with UNICEF.

If you ever wondered why Taylor Swift is the biggest name in popular music, this is why: She has cornered the market on attractiveness, being insightful, and she holds title to unsullied sweetness and goodness. Yet she never, ever, sounds outdated. Taylor is one hipster of a chick.

This is bosomy Taylor Swift after she stopped starving herself. She filled out in all the right places. I posted the photo linked above when Taylor still looked like a camp survivor, so I get all the credit for her transformation.

Girls, your results may vary. You could make Krispy Kreme part of your routine, and just as easily become a Kim Kardashian double wide, instead of a double-D.

Today’s women have bigger boobs than they did a hundred years ago. This is because they didn’t have enough protein back then, or food in general. The scientists are still hard at work trying to prove my maxim, but don’t worry, I know of which I speak.

Taylor called out Trump for his comment regarding George Floyd and Minnesota: “...When the looting starts, the shooting starts...” 45’s main priority in times protesting extreme police brutality, is by protecting commercial property with lethal gunfire.

Ms. Swift had this to say in response:

“You have the nerve to feign moral superiority before threatening violence? ‘When the looting starts the shooting starts’??? We will vote you out in November.”

Taylor is really going out on a limb in criticizing Trump, because this could alienate any of her fan base that unfortunately lean Republican.

Ms. Swift is such a strong, independent woman, one who will speak for the disadvantaged like George Floyd, and against the oppressive like entirely icy, insensitive and caustic Trump. Taylor is no longer afraid to use her stature to effect change for the greater good, even when there might be a political cost involved.

Her true fans trust her, she knows she will never betray that trust, and these fans know that she can do no wrong. Besides, she is so popular and wealthy, why would it matter to her if she loses fans who don’t get it...

Trump lives life as an alcoholic does, with endless recriminations, vendettas, and perpetual ill will. Forgiveness and reconciliation are impossibilities. He is his very own, personal and spiritual wasteland...

Taylor has promised that her boobs will be yet bigger for next year’s Lover Tour. They just keep getting more voluptuous, and there’s no end in sight to Her Royal Hugeness. I can remember when she was petite, and starving herself...

In Other news, her latest, greatest, Lover has eighteen tracks. By the last track, all inspo is gone. The eighteenth is sound effects such as bird calls, and city street traffic accompanied with automated drum loops. The first seventeen tracks work well though (kidding about the eighteenth, but I still have a point...)

Taylor Swift’s City of Lovers concert from the City of Love (and of lights), just wrapped up. She can sure connect with her audience. Taylor’s fans are ecstatic with her nuanced musicianship, and they sing along with her every lyric.

Apropos of nothing, I’ll just mention that there was someone in the audience who was running interference against Ms. Swift. I have no clue how Taylor can maintain her concentration when someone is looking to ruin her show.

The pro that she is, she was unflappable, but her performance would have went from a 97 score to a 98 or 99, except some girl lost her mind, maybe temporarily, maybe permanently.

This so-called fan sounded as though she was escorted out of the Olympiad venue later in the show. Maybe the girl was only hormonal, or maybe she worked for Donald Trump...

Taylor Swift has been bumped from her primary Pantheon slot, to not secondary, but tertiary Pantheon. Say hello to Trump-lover, Lindsay Lohan, on your way down.

Taylor, you will need to turn in all your Pantheon swag: the coffee mugs; the coasters; the calendars (if you wrote in them, your credit card will be billed); the passes to amusement parks; all the autographed, 8x10 glossies of me in swimming trunks (worth a pretty penny on eBay), etcetera. You’re returning all of them.

Swift, with your financial backing of the medical establishment, you are now a Coronavirus enthusiast. You are legitimizing a virus that has been completely blown out of proportion, and that has been given life infinitely beyond its supposed existence in human bodies.

Here’s some of the evidence against the virulence of the Coronavirus: Nine out of ten Coronavirus cases had pre-existing conditions, these flu victims were never healthy people; the Red States were not effected; Sweden, and even China, were unaffected; Coronavirus is barely in the top ten of American causes of death; the average age of Italian Coronavirus deaths is eighty years (well, this is when everyone dies, on average).

If you want to make a difference, help the ones who no longer have a job, and cannot pay the mortgage because of the Coronavirus pan(dem)ic. These are the ones will pay the ultimate price for the virus hysteria, not the ones whose professional stock is going through the roof, which is the medical establishment.

In this panic, the medical profession is being treated like gods by misguided people such as yourself, while the business lock down is actually killing people. The cure is far worse than the disease.

Doctors, nurses, and hospitals were somehow not remunerated enough already? They are paid six and seven figures to be around sick people. This is the most significant part of their job description since day one. From a former fan, who hopes you can see how lucrative a virus scare can be, and just how much hysteria these words can generate: “Chinese food market selling live bats...”

Taylor Swift appeared on the Coronavirus Entertainment Hour (or was it two hours?) This may not be appropriate, at all, but we’re all in forced lock down, and I just cannot see the point to a group cry. Bah, humbug!

The latest is that I am now expected to wear a face mask, when there are none left to buy on this planet, and the possibility exists to get arrested for not looking like a bank robber. Wearing face masks is now being enforced in New York City.

But I meant to write about the song sung tonight by my favorite, contemporary singer-songwriter, Taylor Swift. From her extensive repertoire, she chose one of her saddest: Soon You’ll Get Better. This song concerns accepting her Mom’s cancer diagnosis. There are lines like “who will I talk to?” if Mom isn’t around anymore.

Only one line did I take exception, the one about going to Jesus for solace. Whatever rocks her boat. Ms. Swift is thirty years of age, so I can see that this might work for her, but for me it’s seeking comfort from a dead, cult-leader behind misogynistic, homophobic, pedophile-sheltering.

Taylor, I would suggest channeling the living like your Mom, whom you know so well, or anyone whom you have a feel for their type of responses to your questions.

Baby Jesus is long gone for two-thousand-years, so he is useless as a channeler. His main savior credential is that he died on the cross for your sins (whatever that means), except he never died on the Cross. Read Luke 24:39-41, which is post-Crucifixion, where he says: “Have ye here any meat?” He is a fraud. If you’d like to get in tight with a fraud, that’s up to you.

Another consolation is to consider how your concerns measure up against the rest of humanity’s. Do most people feel as you do, why or why not? Why are you so unique in your concerns, or otherwise, why isn’t everyone suffering like you do? In the history of humanity, how have your concerns been addressed?

Taylor, you are the kind of girl who will never be alone, people gravitate towards your magnetism, so take heart. If worse comes to worse, no one can ever replace your Mom, but others can take the place of the time you spend with her.

If Taylor is out there reading this, she should know that I breathed a sigh of relief when she concluded with her usual iceberg-melting smile. This suggested that her Mom is not in very dire straits.

Her clothing was not va-va-voom Taylor, so I’m hoping she hasn’t reverted to having an eating disorder. Most likely, the duds were just appropriate for the show, nothing flashy, none of her latest décolletage numbers. A red, deep V-neck, sequined cat suit might raise more than just a few eyebrows at a somber, charity event.

Ms. Swift could bang the tambourine for four bars, and I would be on my feet, giving her a standing ovation. She can do no wrong, ever. Taylor is America’s sweetheart, and for all her fans with our unrequited passions, she is our heartbreaker...

Do Kim Kardashian and her boyfriend have any talents? Besides picking fights with Taylor Swift for publicity, that is? Her siblings just fight with her, they are all argumentative. All they ever do is bitch about nothing, and somehow get paid eight figures in the process. The whole lot of them are disgusting, and they know it.

Taylor, the very, very, good apple, has done it again. She’s been giving out several, $3,000 checks for those who lost their jobs because of the Coronavirus pan(dem)ic. Gees, can a girl be any more of a sweetheart?

This would explain her holding court over a bevy of beauties, ones who she was very close with, and who saw her as their leader (they have grown apart as Taylor readies herself for matrimonial duties with another British actor she met at one of dozens of annual, industry showcases).

Everyone gravitates to Tay, except of course, alien life forms like Kim Kardashian, and Kanye West who engineered a vicious tape-edit takedown. The New York Times is attempting to resuscitate Kim’s public image with a piece highlighting her current interest in prisoner rights, and her devotion to the cause of Trump.

Ms. Swift has taken her haters all in stride, as she follows one of her earlier mantras, Shake it Off. Don’t you remember her call for inner peace: “The haters gonna hate, hate, hate...”?

Taylor, we haven’t chit-chatted in so long. I’ll fill you in with what’s new here. Remember I told you that after my debut album, recorded live at the Garden, I was working on my debut studio album?

Well, I’ll be dropping Girls, your Adonis has Arrived this Friday. The album explores my irresistible yet humble personality, and how having my NFL-caliber physique effects my relationships with women.

This is where you come in. I’d like you to promote this. You know, press junkets, radio interviews, and stuff like that. Just say that you know well the legend of The Other Letter, and you’ll do anything to bring him to the next level.

Don’t grovel, but just prove how privileged you are to be on the same planet with me. You can combine it with whatever else you’re shilling. I’m trying to accommodate your career while Girls, your Adonis has Arrived goes solid gold with your advertising skills.

If I pay you, then you’ll just think I’m just using you. So it’d be best if you worked gratis. I’ll treat you to a sack of sliders from White Castle. Don’t worry, I’ll treat. How’s that? That’s right, Taylor, your Adonis has arrived...

I have this question for my readers: Is there any truth to the rumors that Taylor served a year in the Tennessee Penitentiary for Women because of a grand theft auto conviction?

And that the sentence was commuted by the Governor, because in jail it was discovered that she had lots of talent as a banjo player? And that she was much cuter than her cell mates? And that she has a prison tattoo covering her back of a calico kitten named Bocephus?...

I’ve noted a bit of a flaw in Taylor’s psychological makeup. Readers shudder in fear, but want to know more. When discussing her career, she frames the discussion entirely as one about herself. To be brutally honest, she sounds a bit self-absorbed. Readers wonder if it is somehow possible that the leader of Swifty Nation is not perfect.

Once she starts going into a “me, me, me,” tear, I want to give her a good spanking. She might try including other artists in her in-depth interviews. If they ask Taylor who her influence is, she should think of someone beside herself.

Just think of someone that everyone will agree with, like Billy Joel, and for good measure, Eric Clapton, and Steve Winwood. Taylor, you want to be a guitar hero, don’t you? And you want to be a piano virtuoso, too? Well, go with them, and if you pick up the drums, say your influence is Ginger Baker, or Buddy Rich.

Or go with a real scene stealer, and tell a few amusing anecdotes you have about all the time we’ve spent together. Talk about how we first met under the awning of the White Castle when it was raining on that Valentine’s Day. I held open the door for you. Remember you said, “Oh, such a gallant gentleman, Other, I swoon.” We entered the Castle, and then you told the slider sack (not me): “Where have you been my thirty, long-tortured, years?”

Then you gave me a grand, and the code to your mansion gate, because you had never had a friend like me before — don’t you remember?

Or when we snuck into the Super Bowl, and once the ushers realized who you were they sat us in Barack Obama’s Skybox. Or when you introduced me to the standing-room-only crowd at Madison Square Garden, and Swifty Nation gave me a standing ovation? Don’t you remember? I sure do!

Taylor, we know I’m carrying your burden much of the time, but I do it in hopes that you become a superstar that’s widely respected and admired, instead of another, self-immersed Kim Kardashian...

Taylor and me chit-chat at least once a week, or more when she’s touring, but we’ve kind of lost touch. She has her music empire to keep going, and I have my blogging empire to keep at the top of the heap.

Usually, we find the time for me to help guide her musical career. This is our special time together, because she highly values my patient but assured mastery of all that baffles women, but this guy knows in spades.

My fear, and you’ve seen this with her bff Karlie Kloss, is that we have no time for our so-valued tête-à-têtes. I can easily see her career tailspin as a result, because I’m really all she has as her clinician, and as her master of the universe. Without me, Taylor roams the seas, rudderless.

We both know this, about her extreme isolation (her Rhode Island Breakers home is her sad, forty-room, Batgirl cave), and her completely-thwarted desire to live a fulfilling life. Unfortunately for her, all the good things in life just aren’t possible without my help...

Taylor has recently talked of turning her back on her fans, and her music career.
I’d imagine it can be a drain, and all encompassing, but she’s a bit young to be in a rocking chair. My sense is that her music is her best therapy, especially now, because her Mom has cancer.

When Taylor stands before tens of thousands of screaming fans, she must be entirely enthralled and electrified. She is the all-time, reigning wholesome charmer, the only one loved by every age. She wants to trade this in for quality time with her cats?

Ms. Swift, remember when you could get the best table in The Ivy Restaurant by just snapping your fingers?

(Apropos of nothing, Ashley Judd was a hostess there, before her career took off. The Ivy is where Hollywood goes to be seen by paparazzi.)

If you walk away from music at the height of your powers over all of us, then you’ll walk into The Ivy for a table, and the next Ashley Judd will say: “Taylor who? Rich, do we know any Taylors?... Okay, the only seat we have is next to the kitchen door.”

Do you see my point, Taylor? Play music about the latest guy you dumped, or sit on a rocking chair with your cats, and be denied a table at The Ivy. The choice is yours...

According to her Miss Americana biopic, Taylor may bow out of show business by the age of 35. Female pop stars are sent to the “elephant graveyard” by then. Of course, this is very saddening to all her fans.

Taylor could bail out of this trying pop world, and just live life to the fullest, and anyway she sees fit. Then, Ms. Swift can freely express her mind and politics without any concern for hurting her record sales. Given her mind-numbing level of global exposure, getting off the merry-go-round of popularity could be exactly what the doctor ordered.

Taylor could also devote full attention to her Mom, who has brain cancer. While I am sure that Taylor gets the absolute best of medical care for her family, there are definitely charlatans in the field. I’d hope she doesn’t choose her doctors, the same way she chose her career management (like choosing Scooter Braun who turned on Taylor with his renunciation of fiduciary duties)...

In Taylor’s biopic, Miss Americana Deserves Revenge, she is given the news that her epic, Reputation, fell short with the Grammy noms, it didn’t even get a nomination for Best Album. In 2018, Ms. Swift had the biggest selling album, and was the highest-rated artist on Billboard magazine.

Yet Other Letter has the real story, one overlooked by trade newspaper, Variety, and Rolling Stone. Listen closely to Delicate off of Reputation. There’s a D7 chord followed by an A minor chord, then of all things, a G minor chord — a what?!!! The critics, the Grammy people must have all gotten ill, hearing that chord progression. It was that flawed of a composition — ouch!!!

For Taylor’s part, she did say that she would only try harder next time. She knew the top-selling album of the year wasn’t enough, not with that chord progression — yikes!!! Swift was caught resting on her laurels yet again. For shame, Taylor, for shame!!!

I’ve noticed, just looking at how they treat Taylor, that these awards shows are extremely subjective, and just as political. Taylor could have been voted off the island just because she’s not a slut, and the Grammys are moving towards slut.

There’s an even more troublesome issue: Taylor has very valid political viewpoints, especially regarding gay and lesbian rights, but not viewpoints the Trump crowd will allow (that is, not fascist). She makes flawless records, and the winners make slapped together crap. One just needs to do the math...

I have some sad news to report at The Other Letter: Taylor identifies with Christianity. Given that religion’s position on homosexuality, she isn’t much different from a Jew admiring Hitler. I know that she is relatively young, and under extreme stress — her Mom has a tumor in her brain — yet what is Baby Jesus ever going to do for her?

Depend on your family and friends, or even your fans, and if the absolute worst happens, you can channel your Mom — you generally know how she’d respond to different types of questions.

Oh, yeah, the tumor is also sad news, but the passion for Baby Jesus is even worse. It implies a feebleness, cowardice, and any other character defect I can think of right now. Baby Jesus must be stopped, and let it begin with my Pantheon.

Taylor, I know this isn’t the best time, but please, please, toss out the homilies and the Bibles, either via trash compactor, or better, if you have an incinerator, fire it up. Sprinkle the ashes over at your Church, one that oppresses gays, lesbians, and women in general...

In Taylor’s new biopic, Miss Americana, she talks about her eating disorder and all else, but not a word about Scooter Braun, the one who snapped up her catalog behind her back. He wishes her well, and is fond of her. This is like a rapist saying how fond he is of someone he just raped. If he cared about her, he would’t have stolen her life’s work in the first place.

Braun seems to think that all’s fair in love and capitalism. He’s just scum as far as I’m concerned. The best that could happen to him is that Taylor’s fans buy nothing from her older catalog, the one he bought. Taylor, you should learn to do a cover of Dirty Deeds done Dirt Cheap...

Taylor Swift made a huge admission, or at least I thought so, except I suspected it all along. She has an eating disorder. Taylor’s dieting and staying thin became so fixated with being a good person that she almost starved herself to death.

Ms. Swift was being rewarded for being thinner and thinner still, so she would regularly starve herself. She began chasing the elusive dragon of a perfectly-flat tummy at the expense of her health.

Thankfully, she’s so much healthier now, and these days, if I may say, she has a great rack, and a very nice tush. Every woman should look like Taylor now...

Ms. Swift is starring in her autobio pic, Miss Americana. Taylor, we haven’t seen the sights for so long. We haven’t danced in the streets, well, it seems like forever. Do you remember the cobblestones of Old Quebec City? Or the Fens in Boston? Tay, have you forgotten everything we shared together?

Doesn’t this seem like yesterday: the gelato in Miami, the deep-dish pizza in Chicago, the tossed green salad in Malibu? Time keeps moving on, so we march right on with it. For shame, time, for shame...

Taylor is never in a bad photograph. She is never pouting, she is always smiling (either exterior or interior smiles), and if this whole music biz doesn’t work out, she could easily find work as a super model. Do other girls hate her because her good looks are a bit outside the norm?...

Taylor Swift is unadulterated sunshine. If you’re feeling down and blue, just listen to her music, and you’ll pop back up to life. Taylor will be your girl for the next few hours...

On December 13th of 1989, I looked out into the night sky, and the moon was unexpectedly in the constellation of Aquarius. I knew this was big, really big.

As foretold in scripture, this meant just one thing: The Age of Aquarius had begun again, and the next messiah would be born in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. She would be a pop megastar, she would be Taylor Swift...

Taylor Swift is recuperating from her involvement in Cats, the Movie and the Fur Ball. Sadly, this movie was a bit of a disappointing misfire. Yet, because of the millions invested, Taylor still has to slog out to the talk shows, and pretend that the production was the greatest time ever.

More upsetting for both Taylor and her fans, was that Jennifer Hudson was in the cast. Jennifer has an operatic voice, Taylor doesn’t.

Taylor Nation searches desperately for consolation. Wait, kids, Taylor writes her own music — Jennifer doesn’t! Whew! That was a close call. All clear! Feel free to get up and move about your pod. Taylor Nation is secure once more.

(For those playing our home game, Beyoncé has neither an operatic voice, nor writes her own music, yet Beyoncé is a much bigger star than Jennifer is, or will ever be...)

Taylor makes sure her parties, aka her “gatherings,” and “happenings,” are ethnically, sexually, and racially well-balanced.

She often invites token Blacks, Asians, Indians, Pacific Islanders, and even an Eskimo, who popped up at her Fourth of July bash this year in native bearskin.

Taylor played Maria in the recent Sound of Music remake, and she got to know several shepherds who are into the bestiality scene, ones who bring along their sheep girlfriends when they’re visiting Taylor in the States. This fills out her sexuality complement of her “happenings.”

This mix is all carefully orchestrated to make the photo ops more presentable to both the fans, and the mass media, alike. If you don’t believe me, browse through Taylor’s Instagram until you find the many “happenings” with sheep front and center. See what I mean?...

It’s time to play an inning of hard ball with Taylor Swift. I am typically one-hundred-percent behind everything Taylor does. Yet does Taylor ever talk about stuff besides being pitted against the Man while being worth $400 million?

I don’t understand why she’s complaining. I heard others raise the point as well that she’s so unbelievably privileged, to complain regularly about her not reaching professional and financial goals sounds so disingenuous and insincere, and just as self-absorbed.

The rest of America doesn’t own a private jet, but do you ever hear any of us complain about it? Taylor, please, you need to see your personal torment in light of the greater perspective...

Because of an unexplained ripple in the time-space continuum, I sent this on her birthday. If I knew it was her birthday, I’d have sent her a cake, not a nasty gram...

Taylor Swift can still buy the rights to her recording masters, can’t she? As soon as Scooter, the record executive who screwed Taylor, runs out of cash, he’ll have to sell the Swift music collection, the crown jewel of his investment portfolio.

Because of Taylor’s outrage over his walking off with her music rights, she has iced the demand on her entire catalog. Her fans are losing interest in buying her old albums.

Scooter has an extremely expensive asset that he might not be able to make profitable. If an asset like Taylor’s is distressed, and is not profitable, these would have to be sold, and I’d have to think, Ms. Swift would be the highest bidder — and the auction price could be struck at a fire sale...

Here’s a few notes from Taylor Swift’s, London Capital FM, Jingle Bell Ball (I took the big bird in to Heathrow to catch her performance). This pop juggernaut can sure put on a show, she loves working the crowd. She enjoys both creating her work and singing it before tens of thousands of ecstatic fans.

Ms. Swift is a better on-stage dancer than she once was. There was a time when Karlie Kloss had her bettered, but now Taylor is on a par with her bff. Taylor had a few philosophical, polished and expert, song intros, one about the vagaries of love.

Taylor is worth four-hundred-million-dollars, so she isn’t doing the concerts for the money anymore. She’d do this for free, or ten million U.S. (kidding).

This particular concert featured her latest, greatest, the nostalgic, Christmas Tree Farm. Taylor played old home movies on a screen in the back of the stage which evoked happy memories of when her family was still altogether (her parents had divorced within the last few years).

Taylor has the gift of being able to melt the heart of the most hardened of the battle-weary. She is pure, unadulterated, audio sunshine. Looking at the video, is that a fishing lure she got for Christmas? I am trying to figure out how appropriate would it be for a six-year-old to get a fly lure.

Nonetheless, Taylor is overjoyed by the new fishing bait. She must be looking forward to going casting with it on the Susquehanna River, where she spent much of her childhood digging up earthworms, before the over fishing...

Taylor Swift just released her holiday, latest, greatest, which is entitled, Christmas Tree Farm. Via home movies from when she was a youngster, the video recounts her storybook upbringing in rural Pennsylvania as the farmer’s daughter.

Yet, there is much more to the story as recounted by her now forgotten sister, Melody. The christmas tree farm was deeply in debt, and unless Taylor pulled her weight as a twelve-year-old, Dad Swift would have to torch the christmas trees to collect insurance loot. Taylor begged her dad not to set the farm aflame, because birds nested in the trees, and her cherished cats loved to eat the birds.

The reason that the farm was failing was because it was situated on I-80 by Exit 293 - Scranton. There aren’t any christmas tree shoppers by Exit 293, there are only truckers, and the truckers were much more interested in Taylor, than they were in buying christmas trees.

Ma and Pop Swift had heard great things about setting up shop along the Scranton-Allentown corridor, but there just wasn’t the seasonal traffic they had expected. Taylor’s parents needed to come up with something quick, however half-baked, because Tay, and her brother, Austin, were beginning to show signs of malnutrition.

Mom and Dad Swift would drag Taylor down to the Scranton Waffle House, across from the truck stop, where she would busk for tips. On a really good day, Taylor would bring home three dollars, and on a bad day, under a dollar.

If it rained or snowed, Austin would hold an umbrella for Taylor. If Austin wasn’t around, she forgoed the guitar, held the umbrella for herself, and sang a cappella.

Poppa Swift kept reminding Taylor, that it was either eight hours a day of this, or the whole family was out on the street. This is where Taylor Swift learned the value of hard work, and toughened her for any of life’s bumps and bruises like Kanye West and Kim Kardashian.

It wasn’t until Taylor rushed the stage at a Willie Nelson concert, her guitar in hand, that Nashville royalty finally took notice. She was escorted backstage, where Willie heard her play, I’m just a Country Girl at Heart, and he was hooked. The rest is country and western genre, young adult demographic, history...

Hi, I’m Taylor. My breasts are now larger, and I write kickin’ tunes. How about I pencil you in for next weekend, and we’ll see if we can make sparks fly. Do we have a deal? Hmm?...

Doris Day (aka Doris Mary Kappelhoff) is a scene stealer. Try to catch any of her films on cable channel, Turner Classic Movies, and you’ll see exactly what I mean — even up against Hollywood legends such as Rock Hudson who seems stiff in comparison.

She has appeared in a great number of bedroom comedies like Lover Come Back, Send Me No Flowers, and Pillow Talk, which not only ride on her considerable sex appeal, but on her comedic abilities. She does slapstick, physical comedy, in these films as well. Doris is also an unusually accomplished singer.

TCM has noted her comic timing, yet what I notice is that she appropriately interprets the script. There is nuance and intonation in the expression of meaning, character, and theme. Of the movies I’ve seen of hers, she carries the show.

Ms. Day was teased unfairly for her demure femininity. The line goes: “I knew Doris Day before she was a virgin.” Yet this woman is so inherently likeable. She just melts your heart. Hollywood today is so dour, and so bitter. Doris Day is pure, unadulterated sunshine.

She belonged to a generation of superstars, from the Golden Age of Hollywood, that seemed to just have more star power wattage. It’s as if there was a stronger, tighter-knit community, that established a more suitable crucible for creating screen legends. Did greater camaraderie make for less conflicted stage and screen personalities, ones capable of more fluid performances?

Or were scripts written during a time when the movie production could not fall back on special effects making them that much more effective, and the resulting film that much more watchable and enjoyable?

Ms. Day is an activist for animal rights. She is the founder of The Doris Day Animal Foundation, and is dead set against using animals for fur coats.

(Still from The Mary Tyler Moore ShowSitcomsOnline.com
Lou Grant, her boss, was very upsetting to poor Mary Richards.)

While we obviously have no proof, is there a chance that five days into a Trump Presidency, and seeing the havoc he has already reeked, soured our loveable Ms. Moore on not only her Republican Party, but on life itself, and caused her death?

In other words, did Trump turn her world off by being vile? Did Trump make a worthwhile day and suddenly make it seem like nothing? We’re sure now Mary knows it, with each glance, and every little movement she showed it. Trump is all around, Mary had need to fake it, she had the town once, it’s too late to take it. Today, she discovered he might just build that wall after all...

IMDB includes a synopsis of The Dick van Dyke Show, a show where Mary Tyler Moore was once a mainstay. They state that Mary’s turn as Laura Petrie was as a “loopy” house wife, although if you have ever watched that show, every character is fairly loopy.

That turn led to her most famous role, the part of Mary Richards in the revered Mary Tyler Moore Show. Here, easy one-liners were eschewed, and in their place were jokes built on the relationships of well-defined characters. As the theme song suggests, Mary Richards was going to make it on her own, without being beholden to any man, especially when that meant being just her hubby’s wife. This radical feminism was unheard of in American TV of the 1970’s.

I must again take exception to the IMDB biography — otherwise well-written, although perhaps penned by a non-believer — in that they claim in the opening credits, that despite her well-established vegan sentiments, she tosses “meat” into her shopping cart. Okay, that looks like poultry to me, and besides, she is not throwing the package of animal product into her shopping cart happily. Rather, she is doing it with obvious disdain, raising the question to all of us in TV land with half a brain: what the hell is in her processed foods, and more relevantly, what is in ours, being raised in the same American corporate farmlands? At the time, this was a clarion call across the U.S. as people could start to see that what they were shopping for, preparing, then setting on their family’s dinner table, was inhumanely-treated crap.

Mary got the Oscar nom, but not the nod, for Ordinary People in 1981, yet the Hollywood Foreign Press Association had the common, good sense to give her three Golden Globes, and to nominate her six other times. She has also won six Emmy awards.

Ms. Moore has Type I Diabetes and supports efforts to find a cure. To that goal, she also supports the very progressive, oddly anti-Vatican policy of stem cell research.

Yet Mary watches a lot of Fox News, and Ed Asner, her MTM co-star, has said she has gotten much more conservative over the years. Given she: “can turn the world on with her smile, she can make a nothing day and suddenly make it seem worthwhile. Well, it’s you girl, and you should know it, with each glance and every little movement you show it. Love is all around don’t need to fake it, you can have the town, why don’t you take it, you might just make it after all (this is worth memorizing just as I have, you never know when such learned esoterica will come in handy).”

You might just make it, Ms. Moore, if you disavow Fox News. As it stands though, you are hereby relegated to Pantheon probation, which will be lifted once you tidy up your politics, and get with the program. Cloris, Ed, and Betty will have their say on your behalf as character witnesses, if they so choose. We run a very tight ship here, Mary, we suggest you toe the line.

(“You know how to whistle. Don’t you, Steve?”
Just put your lips together ... and blow.)

Lauren Bacall was perhaps best known for her leading roles as the ‘it girl’ opposite Humphrey Bogart in The Big Sleep, Dark Passage, and Key Largo. Besides film noir roles, Ms. Bacall did have starring, comedic turns such as How to Marry a Millionaire with Marilyn Monroe and Designing Woman opposite Gregory Peck.

Lauren Bacall had just two Academy Awards on her mantel, the first for a supporting role in 1996’s The Mirror Has Two Faces, and the second, an Academy Honorary Award, “in recognition of her central place in the Golden Age of motion pictures.” Lauren was an exceptionally accomplished stage actress as well, having won Tonys for the musicals Applause, and Woman of the Year. Lauren Bacall was ranked 20th of the top 25 actresses of all time by the American Film Institute.

Ms. Bacall was married to Humphrey Bogart, and the couple was good friends with Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy. After Bogart’s passing, she was involved with the Chairman of the Board, Frank Sinatra, blowing him off once she saw who a few of his friends were.

Because Lauren possessed the courage and conviction to speak out against McCarthyism, she was denied the well-earned accolades she deserved from the motion picture industry, Hollywood, and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Ms. Bacall will always be an absolute giant in Hollywood who only earned her first Oscar, in just a supporting role, in 1997 at the age of 73.

Watching Greta play her Oscar-winning, title role in Camille, we see Greta’s character change her mind just with facial expressions. She was really quite a phenomenon to watch.

At a few other points in Camille, she must have been playing for the back row of the theater, as her expressions appeared exaggerated. A sophisticated actress, and screen legend, of her caliber wouldn’t overact though. It must have been recognition of 1930’s projection resolution and screen size limitations.

Bette Davis had once said, “Her instinct, her mastery over the machine, was pure witchcraft. I cannot analyze this woman’s acting. I only know that no one else so effectively worked in front of a camera.” This was very great praise indeed...

Greta had interests far beyond Tinsel Town’s confines (sounds like Kim Kardashia, doesn’t it?) She amassed an art collection worth millions. Greta chose not to participate in the Hollywood publicity machine. Greta retired at the age of thirty-five after appearing in twenty-eight films. As she was famously quoted, she would rather “be alone,” perhaps with friends, than play the Hollywood game.

Ms. Garbo never married, and didn’t have any children. She was often rumored to be a lesbian. She did say that she “always wanted to be the boss,” and that her favorite pastimes were smoking stogies, drinking six-packs, and watching boxing matches with unshaven legs and underarms (her pastimes were not entirely confirmed at press time, they do sound much like Madonna’s).

Greta Garbo epitomized timeless, effortless, elegance and glamour. One of the most golden from the Golden Age of Hollywood, she began her acting career in Sweden. Ms. Garbo had a very independent spirit from an early age. She spoke her mind, even more so when there was a just cause to sponsor.

The Academy nominated her four times in the Thirties, but only gave her an Honorary Award in 1954. She did not show up at the ceremony to receive it. Her Marguerite Gautier in Camille earned her the most accolades.

An Elizabeth Taylor performance is what actresses see when screenwriters read Shakespeare, in other words, stage perfection. As an on-screen legend (and an off-screen one as well), she is imbued with all the spirit and vitality of Creation. Most performances when scrutinized under a pundit’s microscope, find the slightest of flaws in lack of authenticity or genuineness. If you try to find any in Giant, you will come up empty-handed...

Many actresses seen on the silver screen today look as though the air conditioning on the set was set too high, they just do not look comfortable. Elizabeth Taylor looked as though she was sunning on a Hawaiian Isle. Soft caressing ocean breezes, the field hands all eager to placate her every need. In other words, Liz looked as though she was completely composed, in actresses’ Heaven, enjoying every moment...

Be they co-stars in her movies, or friends in her real life, Ms. Taylor could always connect with people. Early on in her career, critics regarded her sexuality as precocious, with her exceptionally rare, violet eyes adding to her allure. To many inside and outside the entertainment industry, she is considered to be the greatest actress to appear on the silver screen. Gloria Steinem likewise described her as a “movie queen with no ego ... expert at what she does, uncatty in her work relationships with other actresses.”

Her charitable work is also legendary. She won a Presidential Citizens Medal in 2001 for raising $200 million for AIDS research, and bringing awareness to the plight of those suffering.

Marlene Dietrich’s depth of character risked her very life. As the World geared for Hitler’s vicious, madman aggression, Ms. Dietrich was offered very lucrative contracts to return to her native Germany, and become the premier film star of the Third Reich. It was an offer she somehow found the courage to refuse, and she became an American citizen in 1937.

In the Blue Angel, arguably her most famous screen role, Marlene played a cabaret singer who brought on the downfall of a once respected University professor.

Even early in her career, she would wear a jacket and tie, or other masculine clothing, indicating her refusal to be subjugated to a male-dominated World.

Ms. Dietrich, an accomplished singer, went to Germany in 1944 with General George S. Patton to perform with the USO. Even though she was just a few miles from the Nazi lines, she felt the need to be there “aus Anstand” — “out of decency.”

In the latter stage of her career, and backed with Burt Bacharach as her arranger, she made many cabaret performances in London and Las Vegas. Peter Bogdanovich observed that, with the songs she sings, “she lends each an air of the aristocrat, yet she never patronizes.”

She returned to Germany in 1960, and received a mixed reception, with protesters shouting “Marlene go home!” and with non-Nazis giving her a much warmer welcome.

She succumbed to alcoholism, and a painkiller dependency, at the age of 90.